Chimera
by Ladyawesome45321
Summary: Marisol González was abducted by aliens alongside her cousin Peter Quill when she was just eleven years old. She was pawned off, experimented on, and tortured with only a talking raccoon for company. Now, twenty-six years later she's a wanted woman across the galaxy for theft, vandalism, grand larceny, and even murder.
1. The Abduction

The year was 1988, and the day was Tuesday. Usually Tuesdays were fairly dull for Marisol, but that particular Tuesday was a rough one.

She had been stuck consoling her little cousin, Peter, for the better half of the night while her pappa and their grandfather rushed about in the next room, the doctors doing everything they could to keep Mari's aunt, Peter's mother, alive.

The two children sat next to the check in desk across the hall from Aunty Meredith's room. Mari shifted uncomfortable, the chairs being harder than rocks.

She had quickly lost her patience with it, but she tried hard not to let her frustrations show, not wanting to add any stresses onto her poor cousin. He had enough to worry about without worrying over whether Mari was comfortable or not.

Peter simply sat quietly, head down, listening to the mixtape player his mother had given him for his birthday last year. He hadn't taken the orange headphones off for hours now, which made it a bit difficult for the older girl to comfort him.

Not that she took it personally. Peter was only eight years old, and his mother was practically on her deathbed. There wasn't much an eleven year old girl could do to fix that.

She could somewhat understand what her cousin was going through, after all, having lost her own mother two years ago. All she had left to remember her by was a golden chained necklace with a purple rock dangling from it. Mari never took it off. The walkman must have been like Mari's necklace to Peter.

Their grandfather slowly stepped out of Aunty Meredith's room, approaching the two cousins with a solemn look on his face.

Mari's eyes began watering as she spotted him. His face was hollow, the lines on his face deep like trenches. It looked as though he had been crying, his eyes all red and blotchy.

He crouched in front of the two cousins, but Peter didn't seem to take notice of his, not even after Grandfather had called his name.

Marisol swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat.

She hadn't really been close with her Aunty Meredith, at least not as close as she'd always been with Peter, but death had never been something she'd been able to handle well. She would have cried at a complete stranger's funeral.

In addition, being in the hospital, especially now, brought back painful memories from when her own mother had died. That had been the worst moment of her life, and it had all happened right before her ninth birthday too.

She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye the way Peter was able to now, as she had been away on a camping retreat when her mother had passed.

Mari stifled a sob, shoving the memories of her mother from her head. She couldn't think about that now. This wasn't about her, it was about Peter.

Grandfather sighed, looking Peter in the eyes seriously, until the young boy looked up at him. "Peter, your mother wants to speak with you." When the boy still did not respond, he reached up, yanking the orange headset off Peter's ears. "Come on, Pete. Take these fool things off."

Mari winced, thinking Peter would start fussing, but the younger cousin remained silent.

Grandfather switched the walkman off, rubbing his hand over his face with a long, heavy sigh. He patted Peter's knee comfortingly before rising to his feet again, glancing at Mari expectantly.

Peter could be very stubborn when he wanted to be, and on those days Mari was usually the only one who could get him to listen to reason.

She held out her hand to her younger cousin, smiling kindly. "Come on, Primito. Let's go say goodbye."

Peter nodded slowly, taking her hand and following her into the hospital room. Meanwhile, Grandfather took the walkman, gently placing it in Peter's backpack as they walked.

Throughout the room, their family was scattered. Most of them were sniffling and crying, burying their heads into each others' shoulders.

Mari let go of Peter's hand as they reached the bed and went to her father's side. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug as she cried into his shirt.

Partly, because, in spite of her trying to ignore it, all of this reminded her too much of her own mother's passing; and partly because it must have been dreadful for her father. He had lost his wife, the love of his life, and now he was losing his sister-in-law.

Aunty Meredith was breathing heavily. Mari couldn't see her with her head buried into her father's side, but she sounded as if she were in a great deal of pain as she spoke with her son. "Why have you been fighting with the other boys again, baby?"

Mari guessed she was referring to the big bruise under Peter's eye he'd gotten from antagonizing the school yard bully. He was stupid that way sometimes.

It seemed random and a bit arbitrary to talk about all that now, though. Then again, what was one supposed to say when they were dying? Bye? See you later? Don't cry?

No words seemed to fit the situation. They were all dull and meaningless, when one stopped to think about it.

Still, that didn't stop Aunty Meredith from forcing out her last words to her son.

Peter didn't respond until she said his name softly. Then, Mari heard him speak, just barely above a whisper. "They killed a little frog that ain't done nothing. Smashed it with a stick."

Mari remembered that frog. She sobbed when the boys had poked it to death with that stick, the sight of seeing the poor creature tortured to death being too much for her.

Part of her thought that was probably why Peter had been so enraged by it. Neither of them cared to see innocent animals harmed, but what's more, the two cousins had always been very protective of each other.

"You sound like your daddy," Aunty Meredith mused proudly. "You even look like him."

Marisol couldn't remember what her uncle looked like. She couldn't even recall ever meeting him, but she guessed, if he looked like Peter, he must have shared his sandy hair and hazel eyes, because Peter clearly got his pale skin from his mother.

"And he was an angel composed out of pure light," Aunty Meredith went on tiredly.

Mari finally looked up wiping her eyes and sniffling. She looked awful. She was much paler than she usually was, and there were thick, dark circles underneath her eyes.

Her eyelids had a purple tint, and her eyes themselves were glassy and wet. Aunty Meredith's lips were a dull grey; her head was bald, and her cheek bones poked through her skin dangerously.

Aunty Meredith panted slightly, clearly struggling to breathe with every word she said. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she drifted off, and for a moment Mari thought she was dying.

A jabbing sensation pierced her heart at the thought, and the young girl bit her fingernails furiously, her eyes watering once more.

"Mer," Grandfather said hurriedly, bringing Aunty Meredith back again. She blinked tiredly up at him. "You got a present there for Peter, don't you?"

Mari didn't like the way he'd said that, as if speaking to a small child. As if he knew what came next and was afraid of letting Peter know. As if Peter didn't already know.

It had been the same when Mari's mother died. Everyone had treated her like fragile glass that was going to break any second. She hated that.

"Of course," Aunty Meredith nodded weakly. She tried reaching out for it, but she wasn't strong enough to lift her hand.

Grandfather picked it up for her, placing it in Peter's bag with a short, "I gotcha, Pete."

"You open it when I'm gone, okay?" Peter nodded sadly, and Aunty Meredith gave him a small smile. She nodded as best she could at Grandfather. "Your granddad is gonna take such good care of you...At least until your daddy comes back and gets you..."

Something in her face changed, and Mari's heart sank. Everyone around the room stiffened, tears rolling down their faces like a waterfall. It was happening. She was dying. And everyone knew it.

Aunty Meredith winced in pain. She flopped her hand open on the bed. Her words became more and more strained with every syllable. "Take my hand."

Peter didn't take her hand, though. He looked away, sniffling and sobbing as Aunty Meredith begged for him to hold her hand.

Marisol felt a few hot tears roll down her face as well, and she covered her face with her hands, hoping to hide it. Her father wrapped his arms around her again.

The heart monitor beeped as it flatlined, prompting more tears from Mari and the other family members.

Peter cried frantically, latching on to the bed frame. He screamed, "Mom! Mom! No!"

Grandfather picked him up, as the doctors came rushing back into the room. Marisol pushed away from her father, following them.

She wasn't sure what she could have done to help, but she knew Peter shouldn't be alone. Mari found them just outside the room, Peter scream at the top of his lungs, Grandfather asking him to stay put before going back into the room.

Mari wiped her eyes, holding her hand out to Peter, but before she could touch him or say anything, he was sprinting down the hall. Mari ran after him. "Peter, wait!"

She followed him out the door, racing across the parking lot and over the field of grass. Peter only stopped when he tripped and fell. He placed his hands on the grass, sobbing so violently that he started gasping for air.

Mari dropped to her knees as she caught up with him, forcing him into her embrace. She didn't say anything, just held him tightly.

There were no words to make a loss such as this go away. So, she just held him close, running her fingers through his hair and letting him cry until there were no more tears to fall.

Peter wasn't even nearly finished crying when they were taken, though. Something that could only be described as a UFO appeared from nowhere, hovering directly above them. It's surface was flat and round like a frisbee, stretching out a good twenty feet at least.

A blinding light washed over the two cousins, and, without warning, they shot into the air. Peter let out an eardrum shattering holler for his mother, Mari screaming at the top of her lungs.

Wind pushed her skin back, and for a moment she thought it was going to peal right off. Marisol squeezed her eyes shut, but even that wasn't enough to block out the light. She kicked her feet wildly, but the ground was no longer within her reach.

Mari clutched on to her cousin's shirt for dear life, and she felt his nails digging into her arm as they fell in reverse towards the space ship.

Then, all at once Marisol flopped on to a flat surface once more. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to find that the light was still surrounding them; she shielded her eyes with one hand.

When the light dissipated, the cousins were sitting in a room made entirely of metal -- metal walls, metal floors, even a metal ceiling.

There was a window on the wall above them; Mari stood on shaky legs and peered through it timidly, only to be thrown back a moment later as the ship blasted into the sky.

Stumbling, she squinted her eyes, latching onto her cousin, who was still sitting on the ground, desperately.

Her skin still felt as though it were melting off, her heart pounding violently in her chest. She toppled over right on to her cousin, who was knocked to the floor from the impact.

Then, all at once it stopped, leaving an irritating ringing in her ears and her head feeling fuzzy.

Slowly, Marisol and Peter untangled themselves from each other and went to the window, each looking out. There wasn't anything except the night sky and bright, shining stars, which were much closer than they should have been.

In the distance she could see the moon, albeit much, much larger than it was supposed to be. The sun was to the far left, but Marisol tried not to look that way, because it was far too bright. It lit up the entire room, the lights over head not even needing to be turned on.

She'd read somewhere that the surface of the sun was twenty-seven million degrees fahrenheit, fifteen million degrees celsius, and it could burn a person right up. Needless to say, Marisol didn't fancy being burned up right just then.

Behind them, a massive blue and green sphere was getting smaller and smaller, as they drifted away from it. With a start, Marisol realized the sphere was actually the Earth.

Mari let out a squeak, her knees buckling as she turned to her cousin. He was looking back at her, mouth hanging wide open. He said, "I -- I think we were just abducted by aliens..."

Mari and Peter timidly stepped into the next room. The ship was full of men with blue skin, none of which looked all that friendly. They carried strange weapons at their sides -- bulky guns and spears.

One of them pushed through the crowd to the front. He had a mohawk, which was seemingly made out of a red metal, and his teeth were silver. Hanging from his belt was a red arrow with a very sharp point.

Mari and Peter huddled together, trembling terribly. The man scowled down at them, rolling his eyes at the other men, seemingly annoyed.

Marisol wasn't sure what she was expecting the aliens' language to sound like, but she was definitely thrown for a loop, when the guy opened his mouth and started speaking perfect English. "What the hell is this? I said we only needed the boy! What are we gonna do with a girl, huh?"

The men snickered darkly, a few of them flashing Mari some very provocative looks that made her shrink back. One man shrugged, stepping forward with something that looked like a spiked mace and a devious smirk. "We could kill her!"

Another man stepped forward, his hand moving towards the buckle of his belt. "Or we could have some fun with her." He smirked at the human girl, making her hide behind Peter, her knees buckling underneath her.

A third man licked his lips, eyeing the two cousins like he thought they'd make a tasty snack. "Or we could just eat em both!"

The cousins shrank back, huddling closer together. Mari's eyes were watering, her legs trembling terribly and her heart hammering away in her chest.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up from this awful nightmare.

The man with the metal mohawk rolled his eyes again. He waved the suggestions away like they were annoying flies. "Nah, there ain't no need. And we can't eat em, 'specially the boy. We got a job ta do, remember?"

He glanced at Mari's shaky figure, as if she were an unsolvable question on his math homework. "Too late to turn back now. We'll just sell her to the highest bidder."

Somehow, Mari found it within herself to glare back at him. Her father was Mexican. He came from a long line of people who were beaten and treated as nothing more than cattle just because of the color of their skin and their heritage. She really didn't appreciate that sentiment.

The men didn't seem to care about that, however. They moved forward, yanking the cousins apart. The two humans screamed in protest, trying with all their might to keep holding on to one another; but it was no use. The men were much stronger than the two earth children.

Mari was whisked away from Peter, her hand slipping from his, as she shouted his name until her throat burned. Peter cried out for her, trying in vain to reach her again, but the men grabbed his arms, forcing him into another room.

Her hands grew sweaty, and her heart hammered in her chest, as the men forced her into a chair, strapping her arms and legs down.

She tried to fight them off, but they easily overpowered the young girl. Mari sobbed as the man with the mohawk moved in front of her, the other men trailing out of the room a moment later, leaving them alone.

The blue skinned man eyed her cautiously, sighing with annoyance. "Quiet down now," he told her, speaking much softer than he had been moments before. It was almost enough to calm her nerves. "No one's gonna hurt'cha. 'Least not as I'm standing watch." He shrugged. "I step away and they might try to rape ya. Or eat'cha. Dependin'."

Mari's eyes widened at that. She thrashed around, yanking at her bindings, sobbing more furiously. The man held his hands out, shouting, "Whoa! Hey! Hey! I just said I wasn't gonna let that happen. Did'n I? Alright? So, calm down, little missy."

After a moment, Mari slowly calmed. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, her body shaking as if she had just stepped into a cold winter night.

Marisol swallowed the lump in her throat, somehow managing to find her voice. "What are you going to do with my cousin?" Only it didn't sound as sturdy or threatening as she would have liked it too, her voice trembling as bad as her body.

The man paused for a moment, as if considering what to tell her. But when he spoke, all he said was, "You don't need to worry about that. It's none of your business, little missy."

"Please," Mari begged. "He's my family! He just lost his mother. I can't leave him alone! He needs someone! He needs family! Please, please don't pull us apart! Por favor!" By the end she was sobbing again, yanking her arms against the bindings, trying desperately to get out of them.

"Alright! Alright!" the man grumbled, raising his hands again. "Jeez! Fine. Fine. Shut up, and I'll tell ya."

Mari nodded, falling silent except for the sniffles she had every now and again. She worried the small noise would tick the blue skinned man off and make him not want to tell her, but evidently it was quiet enough for him because he started talking after a moment. "We've been hired to take him to his father."

"F-father?" Mari asked. She blinked back more tears, sniffling again. "P-Peter's father is an...an alien?"

The man stared at her for a moment, looking confused, and Marisol realized he may not have known the term 'alien'. But after a minute, something seemed to click in his head, like a light bulb went off. He shrugged. "It's a little more complex than that, really. But you bein' Terran and all, you probably wouldn't understand."

Mari shook her head slowly. "I -- I don't know what that means..."

"Yeah," the blue skinned man said. "You wouldn't. Terrans are way behind the other planets in the galaxy."

Mari had stopped shaking by now. She was still sniffling too much for comfort, but at least her heart had stopped beating her chest up and her breathing had gone back to normal.

She looked up at the alien in front of her, trying to keep her mind going so she didn't think about the fact that she had been kidnapped or the fact that they were going to sell her like groceries at the shop or take her cousin away from here forever. "I-if you're an alien why do you speak English?"

The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at her as he started picking at one of his teeth. "What? You thought your planet invented that language? It's been around for way longer than fourteen something billion years, sweetheart."

Mari looked down at the floor. "Oh..." She looked back at him a second later. "Then, how come you sound like you're from the south?"

"Lots of planets have a south."

"Who are you?"

"Name's Yondu Udonta. Crew's the Ravagers."

"Oh. Are you pirates?"

"Somethin' like that."

Marisol looked around the room slowly. It was more accurately a long, narrow hallway, if anything. Her chair was the only piece of furniture in the area. There were no windows here, and all the doors were closed so she couldn't see where they lead to.

Yondu stood in front of her, still. He was turned side ways so that she could see the side of his face; he looked bored out of his mind. His coat was opened up slightly, and Marisol could see the red arrow dangling from his belt.

"Why do you have an arrow but no bow?" Marisol tried pointing at the odd weapon, but her hand caught on the chains, making her grimace.

Yondu glanced at his arrow before quirking a curious eyebrow in the girl's direction. "Don't need one."

Marisol frowned, confused by that statement. "Well, that doesn't make any sense at all. How do you use an arrow without a bow? And why only one arrow? What happens if you lose it? Then, you'll have no weapon at all."

In response, Yondu let out a sharp whistle; the arrow zipped right out of his belt. It came to an abrupt stop between the girl's eyes, making her gasp. She inched away, going cross-eyed to see the weapon properly.

"That's how it works," Yondu told her. "And I don't lose it."

Marisol shook a little, as he reached out, snatching the arrow from the air. When she spoke next her voice was a bit shaky again. "Y-you just whistle? That's it? But...but what if your mouth gets dry? Or... Or what if you just get tired or --"

"You ask a lot'a questions, Girlie," Yondu said, eyeing her suspiciously. Like she was the one who couldn't be trusted in this situation.

Marisol pouted. "Thinking about things helps me stay calm," she told him.

"Hm," Yondu mused. "Weird."

Mari huffed at that. She looked down at her feet, muttering, "Says the alien who abducted my cousin and me..."

The really strange thing, though? Her feelings had actually been a little hurt by that comment.

People had called her weird and freaky all her life, either because of her heritage or the way she liked spending her time.

At home most girls were white girls who liked playing house; Mari was a half Mexican girl who had a thing for books and movies.

She enjoyed learning and being creative. Marisol could spend hours trying to figure out a complicated math problem that was beyond her years, and she would be perfectly content. But apparently that wasn't normal...

She shook those thoughts away, turning her attention back to the ship. It would be best if she just kept her mind going. "How are we not floating around if we're in space?"

Yondu looked at her, squinting his eyes slightly, as if trying to decide whether the girl was just messing with him or not. "Artificial gravity."

Mari nodded slowly. She would have asked him to explain the mechanics behind all that, except she wasn't sure she'd even understand any of it, so instead she asked, "What's a Terran?"

He rolled his eyes at the girl. "You are. You're from Terra."

Marisol shook her head. "Nuh-uh! My cousin and I are from planet Earth!" She looked up at him desperately. Maybe if he realized that he'd gotten the wrong planet, he'd take them back home!

Unfortunately, Yondu just laughed in response, like her statement was the best joke in all the galaxy. "You Terrans really are primitive," he said, which Mari found kind of offensive. "You don't even know the name of your own planet!"

"It is called Earth!" Marisol insisted.

"Yeah, but only you locals call it that, Girlie," Yondu said.

Mari huffed. "I'm not a girlie," she grumbled.

Yondu looked confused for a moment. He briefly ran his eyes over her body, and Marisol swore he was checking to see if she actually had all the right female parts.

The thought made her huff again. And he calls us primitive, Marisol thought moodily.

Yondu brought Marisol to a strange planet. The sky was orange and the grass was blue. In the distance she could see trees with yellow bark and silver leaves.

The buildings looked fairly normal to her, though, made from brick and glass just like back home. It made her miss it terribly.

He brought her into the nearest building, where a creature was waiting for them. Mari assumed he was male, judging from his large frame.

He looked just like all those stereotypical aliens she'd sometimes see on the television: a large head, elongated eyes, slits for a nose, a small mouth, and long, long arms. His skin was a sickly silver, fingernails black as night.

Mari froze when she spotted him, her eyes welling up again. Yondu shoved her forward, forcing her to move towards the strange man. She looked back at him desperately. "Please, I don't want to go! I want to stay with my cousin! Por favor no me vendas! Haré lo que sea!"

Yondu ignored her pleas, silently taking something from the other alien man. Mari guessed it was whatever money currency they used in space.

She cried vigorously and tried to run after Yondu when he started walking away, but the other alien man grabbed hold of her, forcing her to stay put.

She sobbed, allowing her new captor to lead her further into the building. What choice did she have anyway? He took her to a dark room, chains hanging from the ceiling, lab equipment stashed everywhere without any sort of order.

Two cages were placed in the center of the room. Without saying anything, the man shoved her inside one of them, causing her to stumble and fall to the floor. Then, he silently walked away, slamming the door shut behind him as he left the room.

Mari curled into a ball, letting the tears fall freely, her sobs echoing off the walls. She was scared. She had no idea what was going to happen to her here, what the man was going to do with her, if he would somehow be worse than the blue men on that ship.

Worst of all she was completely alone. Her cousin had been taken from her. She wondered if he was as scared as she was right now.

Was he screaming and begging to go home too? Was he desperately trying to escape and get to her also? Mari hated not knowing. She hated being so far from him, not knowing if he was safe.

Part of her felt it was her own fault. She hadn't been strong enough to fight off those alien men. She'd let them take him away from her.

Mari was the older cousin, she was suppose to protect him! But she had let them take him away. Her Pappa would be ashamed.

Marisol let out another loud sob, choking on the air slightly, her body wracking back and forth, as she realized she was never going to see him again.

She was never going home. She belonged to the silver alien man now. In this cage. For the rest of her days. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to her father before they'd taken her and Peter.

Vaguely, she wondered if her grandfather and pappa had noticed she and Peter were gone yet. Would they be frantically searching for them to no avail? How long would they look before they gave up? What would the police records say?

Mari let out another cry, imagining how devastated her father would be at losing her. First his wife, now his daughter.

He would have no idea what happened to her. No idea if she was alive or dead. He would spend the rest of his days worrying about her.

She wished he were here. Marisol was so scared. She just wanted to go home and have her father hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But that would never happen again...

"Hey, could you cool it with the water works? I'm tryin' to sleep over here!"

The voice made her jump. It cracked a little, like a human boy going through adolescence.

Pushing herself off the ground with shaky hands, Mari peered into the next cage over. She gasped at what she saw.

He was a small, furry animal, black ringlets all along his form. His paws were small, his tail big and fluffy.

The creature looked like a raccoon, but Mari wasn't sure if that's what he was or if he just looked like one. She figured it probably would have been rude to ask, though, so she didn't.

She stared at him, blinking slowly. He looked back, scowling a bit. "What? I got something on my face?" He started patting himself, until Mari shook her head.

"I'm sorry," Mari mumbled, looking down. Now that she had finally stopped crying her whole body was empty, hollowed out until she was nothing more than an empty shell. "I just miss my pappa..."

The raccoon creature grunted. "Yeah, hate to break it to you, but you ain't ever seeing your family again."

"I know..."

There was a long moment of silence, save for Mari's never ending sniffles. Then, trying to distract herself, she looked up at the raccoon creature and asked, "What's your name?"

He looked back at her, as she wiped at her eyes. "My name?" Her voice was so quiet she wasn't sure how he'd managed to hear her. Maybe raccoons (or whatever he was) just had better hearing than humans did.

"Yeah." She nodded slowly. He stood up and started pacing around his cage, walking on his hind legs like a human. Mari wasn't sure if that was because he was bored or anxious. Maybe both? Had her question made him nervous?

"I figured if we're gonna be neighbors from now on we might as well know each others' names."

He shrugged. "I have no idea what that is."

Mari blinked. "Oh, um, well it's..." She looked around, trying to think of the best way to explain it to the poor creature. "It's what people call you, I suppose."

"So what's yours?" he asked.

"M-Marisol," she told him. "Marisol González."

The creature nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "Subject 89P13."

Marisol scrunched up her nose. She shook her head quickly. "That's not a name. That's a letter and some numbers."

He shrugged. "That's what he calls me." The creature pointed one paw towards the door, indicating the scientist who'd stuck them in these cages.

Marisol crawled over so she could be closer to him, being careful not to hit her head on the top of the cage.

She wasn't as short as he was, so the thing was much more cramped for her. "Well, if it is a name, it's not a very good one. Let's give you a new one, yeah? A proper one."

The creature's nose twitched. He sat down again, looking directly at her through the bars of their cages. "Why would we do that?" His voice cracked a little with the question.

Mari glanced around her cage, tears welling up in her eyes again as that foreboding feeling settled in again. "Parvo por?" she begged softly, turning back to him. "I like to distract myself when I'm scared by solving puzzles or riddles or even just complicated questions. A-and you need a proper name..."

He stared at her a moment then shrugged. "Yeah, alright."

She smiled the slightest bit. "What do you like? That will help me think of something."

"Oh, lots of things," the creature said. "Namely, weapons. The rocket launcher being my favorite for," he broke the sentence with a short laugh, "obvious reasons."

Marisol nodded. She decided not to comment on how hostile that sounded, instead choosing to focus on what she'd tasked herself with. "Maybe we'll call you Lanzacohetes, then. That's Spanish for rocket launcher. Cohetes, Rocket, for short."

"Rocket," he repeated slowly, breaking out into a small grin. "I like it."

"Nice to meet you, Rocket." She put her hand through the bars of the cage, smiling lightly.

Rocket stared at her hand for a moment, making a face. "You'll excuse me if I call your bluff," he said, but he shook her hand with his paw anyway.

Mari pulled her hand back into her own cage, frowning again. She shivered. "It's freezing..."

Rocket shrugged. "You'll warm up soon enough."

"When?"

"Probably when he starts the experiments."

Mari's eyes widened. She searched Rocket's face for any signs that he was just joking. There wasn't any. He was dead serious.

Her breathing hitched again, and Mari frantically jumped to her feet, only to fall back down immediately once she smacked her head on the roof of her cage.

She looked around, rubbing the back of her head, searching frantically for some imaginary escape. "I don't want to be experimented on! Sácame de aquí!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, banging her fists against the bars uselessly.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Rocket shouted, until she stopped. "That's not gonna work! Now, like it or not you're stuck here, and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it! So, just suck it up!" He might've sounded mean if it wasn't for his voice cracking at every other word.

Despite that, the message sank in, and Mari slowly put her back to the wall of the cage. She pulled her legs up her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees as she once again started to cry. "Quiero ir a casa," she mumbled to herself.

Rocket sighed heavily. Apparently he understood spanish better than Marisol had thought, because he said, "I know you want to go home, and I'm sorry but that's just not gonna happen. That part of your life? It's over. You're stuck here. In this mess. With me."

Mari looked up at him, her eyes still watering. He sounded completely and utterly broken. As if he had already been beaten down to his core and torn apart from the inside out, losing all sense of optimism. "How long have you been here?"

He shrugged. "Long as I can remember." Rocket sat down, turning his face away from her as they kept talking. "In fact, I can't remember any home before this. I think I've been here my whole life."

Mari's heart broke at that. She could only imagine how awful that must have been. The silver man hadn't even begun experimenting on her yet, and Marisol was already a trainwreck. Rocket must have been much worse off...

His voice was much softer now, his tone much kinder. "But look on the bright side. At least you remember where you came from. So if you can remember that, and you can remember your loved ones, maybe that'll somehow get you through this. Maybe it'll help you move forward. Can you do that? Can you remember them?"

Mari nodded slowly. "Good," Rocket said. "Now, let's get through this!"


	2. The Score

**Just thought I'd add a little note, just in case. Marisol and Rocket are going to say some very rude things about Stan Lee when he appears for his cameo.**

**Disclaimer: this is not meant to disrespect him in any way shape or form. This is not meant to be taken as me speaking ill of the dead. This is simply because both Rocket and Mari are mean spirited at this time of the story.**

**Thanks. Okay, enjoy the story, bye!**

Twenty-six years had come and past since Rocket and Marisol had first met one another in that laboratory. Since then, they had escaped, using the abilities they had gained from the experiments to their own adventure and become criminal masterminds throughout the galaxy.

Typically they robbed people, morons who could be easily fooled. But occasionally they tried looking for fellow crooks, capturing them and turning them in for a couple of units each.

Usually, they did this on the planet Xander. There were some pretty stupid people there, so they all made easy prey.

Naturally, when Rocket asked Mari to go with him to scope the place out she said yes.

The place made her a little nostalgic. It looked astoundingly similar to her home planet, the only real difference, of course, being the flying vehicles.

Green grass on the ground, crystal blue water in the oceans. The streets were always busy, people running around just to get to nowhere.

The people looked pretty similar to humans as well, same skin tones and everything. Mari could almost pretend she was back on earth every time she was there.

Presently, Mari and Rocket were perched on top of a water fountain, Rocket examining the pedestrians of Xander with a holographic scanner.

"Xandarians," Rocket snickered. "What a bunch of losers." He shook his head. "All of 'em in a big hurry to get from something stupid to nothing at all. Pathetic."

Mari nodded her head in agreement. The pair of them had already had this conversation more than once, and, frankly, she had grown tired of it. They were all morons. Nothing more to add. Still, poking fun at the idiotic people never grew old.

Rocket showed her his scanner, as he aimed it at some jerk with floppy bangs. The man was really much too old to pull the look off. Mari scoffed. "Look at this guy!" Rocket scoffed. "Can you believe they call us criminals when he's assaulting us with that haircut?"

Mari rolled her eyes as the jerk went about his merry business, not even having enough sense to take notice of them. "Seriously, why isn't it illegal for him to wear that haircut!? It's hideous!!"

"Right??" Rocket said, before moving onto the next victim of their ridicule. It was a small baby boy, maybe two or three years of age. "What is this thing?"

Mari scowled. There might have been a time when she was a young girl in which she adored children, when she was much younger, much more naive and helpless. But she wasn't that girl anymore.

Children, just the very idea of them, made her sick to her stomach. They were loud and whiny. And they made more messes than they were worth.

Rocket made a face at the boy. He rolled his head around, mocking the thing as an adult reached out to help it walk properly. "Look how it thinks it's so cool. It's not cool to get help! Walk by yourself, you little gargoyle!"

That comment managed to get a small laugh from Mari. It was always amusing, watching Rocket yell at random Xanderains. Making fun of them was their favorite pastime.

Marisol gestured to the child's mother. She would have been a good ten feet tall all on her own, but the lady added to her natural height with a pair of eccentric heels. "Yeah, well having Prissy there for a mom has got to be pretty rough. I think I'd be pretty messed up too if my mom went around walking in those god forsaken things."

"Look at Mr. Smiles over here." Rocket pointed at an old man over the bridge. His hair was white and greasy, and he wore thick, golden glasses over his eyes. He was talking to a pretty woman who was much younger than he was. "Where's your wife, old man?" Rocket rolled his eyes. "What a class-A pervert."

Mari snorted. "I was thinking he looked more like one of those lameos who write comics and sell movies on Terra. Thinks he's some hot shot cause he's got money."

Rocket let out a loud laugh. "Yeah, and she's totally buying it too. I bet she lets him go all the way, thinking they'll get married and that'll solve all her daddy issues. But he'll be gone before the next morning."

"Hm," Marisol mused. "Not sure who I feel more sorry for. She's obviously some whiny tramp. Probably a big crier too. Most likely super clingy and annoying. And he's just a gross old man."

"Definitely him. No one wants to deal with that crap," Rocket snickered.

Mari doubled over, clutching her sides as she and Rocket laughed for a good five minutes. "Right, Groot?"

Groot was their companion. They'd met him a while back while working a job on his home planet. Back then he'd been no more than a little sapling, but now he was a full grown plant man.

(It had only been a few months ago, but his species grew much faster than any other Mari had ever seen so it felt like it had been longer than that.) He was taller than even the largest of men back on earth, his arms and legs long and wide.

His body looked more like vines than it did like bark, and his mouth was made from a simple slit, leaves poking out around his figure and moss running over his arms and chest here and there. Marisol had always assumed that was his species' equivalent to body hair, but she never dared to ask him to confirm it.

Mari glanced over at Groot and snorted. He was slurping the water from the fountain as it shot into the sky. The poor thing was so childish sometimes, it often felt as though she and Rocket were his mother and father. "Don't do that, mi arbolito dulce," she told him.

Rocket jumped off the fountain and gagged, scolding Groot as well, though in a much more hostile manner. "Yeah, don't drink the fountain water, you idiot. That's disgusting."

Groot looked at the pair of them, water dripping from his chin. He shook his head, his big brown eyes widening a bit, denying what he'd just done.

"Yes you did!" Rocket said. "Both Marisol and I just saw you doing it! Why are you lying?"

"I am Groot," Groot cursed at them.

Mari jumped to her feet, hands on her hips as she gave the tree man a stern look. "Watch your tone, mi arbolito dulce! You remember the last time you talked to me like that?"

Rocket cringed, remembering that particularly nasty punishment she'd given him for using foul language. "No VCR games for a whole week. Wouldn't want that again, now would ya, Groot?"

Groot looked down sadly. "I am Groot."

"Yeah, you better apologize," Mari huffed.

"I am Groot."

Mari narrowed her eyes at him, folding her arms over her chest. "My punishments are not cruel and unusual!"

Groot shrugged. "I am Groot."

She scoffed. "I am not a nag!"

Their argument was cut short when Rocket's scanner started beeping and flashing red with an alert. "Whoop. Looks like we got one." Rocket held it up to see what they'd found. "Okay, hunnie, how bad does someone wanna find you?"

Groot and Mari sat on the fountain behind him, looking over his shoulder to see a picture of a sandy haired man on the scanner. Marisol instantly recognized the target's name -- Peter Quill; he was wanted by Yondu Udonta.

Years ago, she would have felt something, reading those names. Remorse. A longing to see her family. Anger and sadness for everything she had lost. Hatred for the man who stole her away from her family and then sold her off like she was nothing.

But Marisol had learned to better herself, to control all those pesky emotions and shove them into a deep, dark pit within herself so that they would never get out.

Besides, she wasn't really paying attention to the name of the man who'd put the bounty up or their target. Instead, she focused her attention on the amount of money he was wanted for.

Her eyes widened with surprise, and Rocket lowered the scanner, turning around and grinning widely. "Forty-thousand units? Marisol, Groot, we're gonna be rich!"

"Rich enough to finally get one of those fancy flying douchebag cars?" Mari grinned. She'd been obsessed with getting her hands on of those bad boys ever since she'd had that dream about retrieving one from a Xanderian.

"We'll be rich enough to buy seven fancy flying douchebag cars!" Rocket proclaimed, spreading his arms out wide.

Mari pumped her fist in the air. "Yes!" she cheered.

Their giddiness was quickly brought to an end at the sound of splashing.

Simultaneously, Mari and Rocket glanced over to see Groot drinking out of the fountain again. Evidently, he had gotten bored and decided to entertain himself with the disgusting water.

Rocket sighed, Mari putting her head in her hands and groaning. "We better move quick," Rocket said urgently. "Someone's gonna beat us to the score!"

Marisol followed his gaze to the bridge. He was right. A green skinned woman was in the middle of grappling with their target. "Oh diablos no, perra! That is our money! Groot, get the sack! We're taking this bitch down!"

"I am Groot," Groot said, grabbing the sack they'd brought along with them from the side of the fountain. It was soaked from Groot's messy slurps in the fountain.

"Of course it's wet! You just splashed water all over!" Rocket rolled his eyes. "Stop complaining and just grab it, will ya?"

The three of them sprinted up the bridge, Marisol up ahead with Rocket on her shoulder, pushing people to the ground when they got in their way.

Once they were in a close enough range, Rocket leapt from Mari's shoulder, sending a flying kick (literally) to the green skinned woman's skull, as she prepared to stab their target. She stumbled back. Rocket attacked the woman, grabbing at her hair, as she struggled to get him off.

Mari jumped on their target, pinning him to the ground. He fought, but she had a much stronger grip than she did when she was eleven. She had trained herself so that she would never be weak again. No man, woman, or otherwise could harm her ever again. "Groot!" she called. "¡Venga! ¡Vamonos!"

Groot was just standing there, holding the sack and looking confused by all the chaos. Rocket shouted over at him, hanging on to the woman's hair for dear life as she swung around, violently swatting at him. "Put him in the bag! Put him in the bag!"

Groot moved towards Rocket and the woman, raising the sack. "Not her!" Rocket shouted, getting flung around like crazy.

"Groot! Wrong one!" Mari groaned at the same time. The target sent a kick to her stomach while she was distracted, knocking her off of him. She fell on her back with a grunt.

"Learn genders, man!" Rocket told Groot. He pulled back on the woman's nose, causing her to scream and bite his fingers. Rocket yanked his paw back. "Ow, lady! Biting? That's not fair!"

Marisol groaned, forcing herself into a sitting position. She glanced over at Groot, who was wrapping his arms around the woman like rope, before turning back to their target. He had taken his chance to run off, pushing past people as he ran for escape.

Mari glared after him. "Not today, tu mierda. I'm getting that douchebag car!" She pushed herself to her feet, sprinting after him.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the green skinned woman toss Rocket off her back so that he flew over the side of the bridge and slammed into a glass wall, shattering it on impact.

Mari let out a low growl at that. She'd have to get her back for that once she'd apprehended their target. No one hurt her friends and lived to tell about it.

Marisol was gaining on him, when he yelped in pain, dropping something on his own foot. It was a round, silver container, the kind of thing you only put very dangerous and very valuable stuff in.

Mari smirked to herself, thinking they could probably get a few extra units from whatever was inside...except it rolled over the side of the bridge as soon as the moron dropped it.

He stumbled, slowing down significantly as he hopped on one foot, trying to rub the other one. Mari tackled the idiot to the ground, slamming his head against the walkway and pinning his arms behind his back. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" he complained. "Jesus! What's with you ladies today?"

"You're coming with us," Mari hissed in his ear. "And you're gonna make us a couple of rich madre folladora."

"Yeah? How much you get for bringing me in?" the target asked, sounding genuinely curious. He clearly hadn't recognized her yet.

Though, in all fairness they hadn't seen each other in over twenty years. There was no reason for him to know who she was; the only reason Marisol knew who he was was because of Rocket's scanner. If not for that she probably would have thought him just another usual, moronic Xanderain. It didn't change anything though. She was still collecting his bounty and getting that flying car!

"Forty-thousand units," Mari told him. "Enough to earn seven flying douchebag cars."

The target scoffed. "Are you freaking kidding me? I'm Starlord! I should be worth way more than that! I should be worth enough to buy thirteen flying douchebag cars!"

Mari snorted. So, he'd developed a huge ego. Fun. She ignored that, however, focusing on the nickname he'd given himself. "Starlord?" Vaguely, she recalled her Aunty Meredith calling her cousin that a time or two.

"It's kind of an outlaw name," he said. "I mean, I'm a pretty big deal so of course I have to have an out law name."

"Of course," Mari agreed, jamming her knee into his back, smirking when he let out a yelp. "I've got one too. It's Chimera."

"Well, that's cute," Starlord snickered. She jammed her knee deeper into his back for that, making him scream a little more.

Belatedly, she wondered how long she could keep her identity from him before she dragged his stupid ass back to Yondu and his Ravagers. Could be a fun little game...

Marisol hulled him up, keeping his hands behind his back. That would have been a job well done, except the green skinned lady had withdrew a pair of hatchets from her belt, slicing Groot's arm off, making him stumble back. Mari gasped, shouting, "Groot!"

The woman jumped over the side of the bridge, landing expertly on her feet before sauntering coolly towards the sphere Starlord had dropped. She grabbed it and took off.

Mari lost focus, unknowingly losing her grip on Starlord and allowing him to shove her off once again. She grunted, hitting the ground for the second time that day. "Son of a bitch!" she cursed, as her target leapt over the side of the bridge, colliding with the green skinned woman as she was running under it.

For a second he was on top of her, but she flipped them over, pinning him soon enough. The woman sneered at him, but Mari couldn't hear what they were saying from where she lay on the ground.

Marisol shook her head, leaping to her feet, running back down the bridge towards Groot. "Come on! We can still get him!" she called as she ran by him. This lady was really starting to piss her off. She was looking forward to kicking her ass.

He followed behind, taking the sack with him. They rounded the corner just in time to see Starlord place something on the woman's thigh, sending her flying across the way, splashing into the fountain Groot, Mari, and Rocket had been at earlier.

Starlord stood up, eyeing his handy work with his back turned to them. Mari and Groot snuck up behind him quietly, raising the sack to loop it over his head. Rocket caught up with them as Groot swung the bag over his shoulder, Starlord thrashing around inside, screaming.

Groot smirked as the three of them started walking. Mari couldn't help grinning as well. Rocket shot them a serious look. "Quit smiling, you idiots. You're supposed to be professionals."

Mari rolled her eyes at him. She would have responded with her own retort if their little victory hadn't been short lived. The green skinned lady had gotten up again and she was marching towards them, hatchet in hand and moronic smug smirk on her face. "Santo infierno! This lady doesn't quit!"

"You gotta be kidding me," Rocket groaned out in the same instance. He grunted as the woman harshly shoved him to the ground.

She swung her hatchet at Groot, but Mari sent a kick her stomach before she could land a hit. The woman stumbled back but quickly recovered; she sent a swing Mari's way.

Marisol ducked, latching on to the end of her hatchet, wincing as it drew blood from her palm. She yanked it away from the woman, tossing it behind her, ignoring the slight stink and the blood dripping down her hand. "I prefer hand-to-hand combat," Mari told her with a smirk.

"Me too," the woman breathed out, her own lips quirking in an upwards motion. She sent a kick at her, only for Mari to grab her leg and toss her backwards. The woman retaliated, catching herself with her hands and kicking outwards, knocking Mari off her feet for the third time.

With an angry grunt, the woman jumped on top of Mari, punching her repeatedly until Mari was able to knee her in the gut and knock her backwards. Mari jumped on the woman's back, wrapping an arm around her neck, choking her; the woman screamed, reeling her head back and slamming it into Marisol's nose.

"Aah!" Mari yelled, being forced to let her go. She grabbed her nose, blood dripping on her fingers and mixing with her already bloody palm."Perra!"

She clenched her fist around the cut, ignoring the stinging that now burned across her hand and face, punching the woman in the back. The woman hissed in pain, face planting with the sidewalk.

Turning quickly, the woman latched onto Mari's arm, swinging her into Groot and Rocket. The woman's face somehow miraculously didn't even have so much as a scratch on it. That little fact just made Mari hate the bitch even more.

"Thanks for the help guys," Mari grumbled as Groot caught her. "Really appreciate it!"

"Eh, you looked like you had it covered," Rocket shrugged. Mari glared at him.

The woman hurried over to the bag they'd trapped Starlord in, opening it only to get blasted backwards once again, when he flashed one of his seemingly endless amount of tools in her face. She fell back with a yelp, looking dazed as she hit the ground.

Now that she wasn't moving around so much, Marisol could get a better look at her. She was tall, but not nearly as lengthy as Groot, of course. Her biceps and legs were pretty muscular, like she also spent a great deal of time training. (Judging from the way she fought that was probably the case.) She wore a leather suit, thick combat boots on her feet, various weapons and tools on her belt.

Mari was surprised to see she actually sort of recognized her. She had never met the woman in person before, but there'd been rumors about her family all throughout the galaxy. The mad titan family, hell bent on destroying the world.

She was Gamora, daughter of Thanos. And she had just been brought to her knees by some punk junker.

The punk junker in question was currently racing down the street. Starlord shuffled out of the bag, dragging it with him on his feet for a few paces before managing to kick it off.

Rocket smirked, raising a grenade launcher. Mari hadn't seen where he'd gotten it, but she guessed he must have nicked it from someone while he was being useless during Mari's fight with Gamora.

"I live for the simple things." He aimed the weapon at Starlord's retreating form. "Like how much this is gonna hurt." And he fired.

The next five seconds were filled with blissful screams and cries of pain from Starlord as he fell face first into the ground, withering violently, volts of electricity running through his body.

Rocket chuckled, Mari smirking next to him. "Yeah. Writhe, little man."

From the other side of Rocket, Groot whined a bit, playing with the spot his arm used to be. Rocket rolled his eyes. "It'll grow back, you d'ast idiot. Quit whining."

Mari put a hand on her hip, sighing loudly. "You know we could really play a drinking game with the amount of times you call each of us an idiot."

"Not my fault you two are imbeciles," Rocket snapped. "Besides, if you really wanna make a drinking game out of something annoying, we should do it with the amount of times you roll your eyes at people!"

Marisol rolled her eyes at him, simply just to annoy the crap out of her friend.

Rocket huffed. "Quit it! It's seriously rude, and it makes you look stupid!"

"Hey! I'm not nearly as stupid as you are!" Mari snapped back.

Rocket gasped dramatically, placing a paw over his chest. He pointed at her, sneering. "You take that back right now!"

"Make me!"

"Why I oughta!" Rocket crouched, making like he was going to pounce on her, but before he could a beam of yellow light washed over everyone who'd been fighting.

Mari groaned, looking up at the sky to see the familiar ships of Xander law enforcement. They were massive things, in the shape of a star, the light shooting from the center.

One of the local law enforcers spoke through a megaphone on his ship, calling out to Rocket. "Subject 89P13, drop your weapon."

"Aw, crap," Rocket mumbled. He stood up right, lowering the grenade launcher to the ground.

"By the authority of the Nova Corps, you are under arrest," the law enforcement continued, as a few blue suited officers landed their ship and came out to arrest them, "for endangerment to life and the destruction of property."

"Oh come on!" Mari complained. "That's total bullshit! The people here are complete losers, and the scenery sucks anyway!"

The officers didn't seem to care much about her excuses though, as they rounded her and her friends up.

She kicked at them, throwing punches and all around just giving them a hard time. She didn't have to make it easy for them!

Sure, it was against the law to wreck the place and to shoot at people, but Marisol believed it should have been perfectly vindicated if they'd been doing it for units. It was so unfair that they were being arrested!

Her only consolation was that they were arresting Starlord and Gamora too.

They hauled Starlord to his feet, the sandy haired man looking disgruntled. One of the officers snickered when they saw his face. "Hey, if it isn't Star-Prince."

Starlord sighed and corrected him with irritation. The officer nodded in a mocking manner. "Sorry, 'lord.'" He glanced at his fellow officers as he brought him towards the others. "I picked this guy up a while back for petty theft. He's got a codename." The other officers scoffed.

"Come on, man," Starlord sighed, exasperated. "It's an outlaw name." He nodded to where Mari was forcibly being shoved into the ship with Groot and Rocket, the green skinned woman rolling her eyes, already sitting in one of the seats. "She has one too!"

"Oh yeah," the officers nodded. "Chimera."

Peter sighed heavily. How could they get her name right but not his?! That just wasn't fair!

"Just relax," the officer said. "Codenames are cool. It's not that weird."

Officer Dey stood at the center of the screening room at the Nova Corps headquarters, going over the identities of those he and his team had arrested earlier that day.

His commanding officer Saal stood behind him, listening to Dey and watching as the crooks were brought in one by one for the line up.

"Gamora." The green skinned woman stood in front of them, looking utterly bored. Her dark hair was hanging over her shoulders, the ends dyed purple. "Surgically modified and trained as a living weapon. The adopted daughter of the Mad Titan Thanos. Recently, Thanos left her and her sister Nebula out to Ronan, which leads us to believe that Thanos and Ronan are working together."

"Subject 89P13. Calls itself Rocket." The fury creature stomped into the holding chamber as Gamora walked out. He folded his arms in front of him, looking irritated. "The result of illegal genetic and cybernetic experiments on a lower life form."

"Subject 90P14. Calls itself Chimera." A mexican woman with silky dark hair and smooth olive skin stepped forward as Rocket left. She flashed the officers a smirk before firing off some rather rude and provocative gestures. "The result of the same illegal experiments as Subject 89P13."

Saal stared with wide eyes as their next captive came in. "What the hell?"

"They call it Groot," Dey told him, as the massive plant man stepped into the room, staring at the officers perplexedly. "A humanoid plant that's been travelling recently as 89P13 and 90P14's personal houseplant/muscle."

"Peter Jason Quill from Terra." The overgrown houseplant was replaced by the sandy haired man. He fiddled with his hand, frowning at it with fake confusion, giving the officers the finger and looking surprised about it. "Raised from youth by a band of mercenaries called the Ravagers, led by Yondu Udonta."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know how this machine worked," Quill said, referring to his hand.

"What a bunch of A-holes," Saal commented. Dey chuckled at that. "Transport all five to the Kyln."


	3. The Prison

"I guess most of Nova Corps wanna uphold the laws, but these ones here? They're corrupt and cruel," Rocket was saying as they were being marched into the Kyln prison.

It wasn't much to look at, in Marisol's opinion. Just a large oval structure stranded out in the middle of space. There was a small hanger at one end of the prison where the guards landed the prison vessel that had brought them there.

The floors were nothing but cold, hard metal. Every now and again they'd pass thick, rusted chain walls, giving the place a harrowing vibe. Occasionally, they'd pass by a window too, allowing Marisol to see the stars in the distance, but she couldn't really find it in herself to care much for the sight.

After twenty-six years of staring into the cold, empty vacuum of space it had really lost it's flavor. Where she once saw beauty and extravagant life forms, she now saw dull, boring nothingness. Besides, in her experience beautiful things could be rather duplicitous.

Rocket laughed. "But hey, that's not my problem. I ain't gonna be here long. I escaped twenty-two prisons. This one's no different."

"Yeah, whatever, Cohete, just don't forget me and Groot when you go, yeah?" Mari said.

After spending years stuck inside a cage with nothing to eat but the little portions that were given to her, Mari had grown a little weary about being locked up.

Cages and small spaces just didn't mix well with her. The only way she managed to get through being sent to prison was if Rocket was there with her. He was the only one who knew how to calm her down when she started to panic.

Rocket let out another rumbling laugh. "Of course, of course. Can't forget my partners in crime, can I?" Then he went back to boasting to the others, namely Starlord. "You're lucky the broad showed up, because otherwise the three of us would be collecting that bounty right now, and you'd be getting drawn and quartered by Yondu and those Ravagers."

Mari chuckled to herself. "It's funny really. That man once ruined my life..."

"Really? How?" She could feel Starlord's gaze on the back of her head as she walked. Even though she couldn't see his face, she could imagine what it looked like. He was frowning, maybe concerned, probably just looking for something he could use against her later.

Either way, it seemed he still hadn't figured out who she was. It was kind of sad and pathetic; out of what little sympathy she managed to muster up, she threw him a small bone.

"He took me from my home, stole my cousin away from me, and sold me off to the nearest insane lunatic." Mari shrugged, shoving the rising emotions back down. She hadn't really been expecting to feel anything. Her cousin hadn't been in her life for twenty-six years, it wasn't like she had any care for him anymore.

Still, those events weren't a part of her life that she particularly enjoyed remembering. She'd been weak and helpless. Alone and afraid. Up until now only Rocket (and a select few she'd told in order to gain their trust and manipulate them) was the only one who knew anything about it.

Recalling those memories only reminded her how pathetic she once was. How much she hated the person she'd been before.

"Wow." Mari imagined Starlord blinking, looking taken aback by her story. "That's weird because he did the same with me and my cousin. Took us from our home, I mean." She guessed he shook his head here. "Never really knew what he did with her, though. We were separated as soon as we got on his ship."

Mari hummed softly, musing over his words. Even after she had practically spelt it out for him he still didn't get it. Had her cousin gotten stupid as well as egotistical? What a loser.

Marisol didn't bother to tell him, though. Instead, she decided to see how far she could take it. She turned her head, smiling with fake sweetness, as if she were just as clueless as he was. "Well I guess kidnapping innocent kids is a regular thing for him then."

"Ah, he's not that bad," Starlord insisted. He sounded a little too defensive over a guy who'd kidnapped him, put a bounty on his head, and God only knew what else Yondu had done to him. "He raised me so."

This comment threw her for a bit of a loop. She distinctly remembered Yondu telling her he'd been hired to take Peter to his dad's. That was the whole reason he'd taken them.

Of course, she might have been remembering wrong, but that wasn't very likely. Marisol had a pretty decent memory, so she rarely forgot any piece of information given to her no matter how useless. Besides, the reason your life was ruined wasn't that easy to forget. (She'd tried.)

"And a fine job he did at that," Mari scoffed, deciding not to mention any of that. "You're a total pinche pendejo."

"Hey, screw you, Queenie!" Starlord huffed. "I'm not a pina...whatever you just said!" He paused for a moment, probably scrunching his face up in confusion. "Also, I have no idea what that means."

Mari smirked at that, but she didn't bother to translate for him. It'd be fun to keep the little turd guessing. "Anyway, I use to be bitter at Yondu, but I got over it. Turns out he was actually doing me a favor."

She nodded at Rocket. "Met my best friend." She looked over her shoulder, tilting her head at Groot, who stood behind Starlord. "And this guy." She grinned to herself. "Cool powers. A big ass criminal record. That's pretty fun. What else could a gal need? Well, you know, besides a flying douchebag car..."

Mari turned again, flashing Starlord the sweetest smile she could muster up. "Returning his trash to him would have been the least I could do to repay him."

He scoffed in return. "I've had a lot of people try to kill me over the years. I ain't about to be brought down by a tree, some wanna be badass assassin Queen Bee, and a talking raccoon!"

Rocket stopped walking for a second, scrunching up his nose. "What's a raccoon?"

"What's a raccoon?" Starlord repeated moodily. "It's what you are, stupid."

Rocket shook his head. He patted himself on the chest proudly, which looked a bit weird since he was standing in front of them. "Ain't no thing like me, 'cept me."

"Ditto," Marisol nodded. "That's what happens when you get experimented on by a psycho scientist. You get unique DNA."

Starlord huffed, probably rolling his eyes. She figured he'd retort with another sarcastic remark, but instead he turned his chin upwards, calling out to Gamora up at the front of their little line. "So, this Orb has a real shiny blue, suitcase, Ark of the Covenant, Matease Falcon sort of vibe."

"Orb? That thing you dropped?" Mari wondered. "What's in that thing anyways?"

"I don't know," Starlord said before turning his attention back to Gamora. "What is it?"

The green skinned woman didn't get the chance to answer though. Groot spoke up before she could even open her mouth. "I am Groot."

Mari snorted. What he'd said translated to: You sound like a moron. Didn't you steal it? How do you not know what's in it?

Which made it all the more hilarious when Starlord, who clearly had no idea what the tree man was saying, snapped, "So what?" Back to Gamora. "What's the Orb?"

"I have no words for the honorless thief," Gamora said, her voice emotionless.

Mari scoffed, leaning down a bit, muttering to Rocket, "And he calls me the queen bee?" Rocket snickered at that. Neither Gamora or Starlord seemed very amused though; Mari imagined they were both rolling their eyes simultaneously.

"Yeah, that's pretty high and mighty coming from the lackey of a genocidal maniac," Rocket quipped.

Gamora whirled around, a look of surprise on her face. Rocket looked up at her smugly. "Yeah, I know who you are. Anyone who's anyone knows who you are."

Marisol nodded curtly, as Gamora faced forward again, acting as though she hadn't been the slightest bit unnerved.

The scene was made even more amusing when Starlord added his piece in. "Yeah, we know who you are!" Mari glanced over her shoulder and got him turning to Groot, quietly asking, "Who is she?"

"I am Groot," Groot said, trying to explain. Except, Starlord was a moron, so he didn't know what he was saying.

"Yeah," Starlord said, confused, "you said that."

The guard stopped them in front of a large metal door. He fiddled with the machinery on his arm silently, and when the door opened they started marching again.

Gamora sighed as they walked on. Apparently, she deemed it necessary to defend her actions. "I wasn't retrieving the orb for Ronan. I was betraying him. I had an agreement to sell it to a third party."

Marisol didn't really care about any of that, though. Politics and war had never really been her thing.

Neither had heroics or semantics. All she cared about was the next big score and getting her hands on one of those damned flying douchebags cars!

"I am Groot," Groot said. He, unlike Mari, was very opinionated on that sort of thing.

Groot never shied away from sharing his political views, which essentially boiled down to: Everyone is stupid, and all other life forms should be replaced by plant people.

Mari rolled her eyes at Groot, Rocket giving out a short laugh in front of her. It was sort of offensive, but then again it was hard to disagree with. People sucked ass.

Starlord sighed. "Well that's just as fascinating as the first eighty-nine times you told me that. What is wrong with Giving Tree, here?"

Marisol snorted at his ignorance, leaving Rocket to explain things to the moron as they rounded the corner. "Well, he don't know talking good like me and you. So, his vocabulistics is limited to 'I' and 'am' and 'Groot.' Exclusively, in that order."

Starlord scoffed. "I tell you what, that's gonna wear real thin, real fast."

He quickly got distracted, though, glancing into one room as they passed by. The guards were going through their things, everything they'd had on them when the broad had picked them up.

Marisol didn't care much for any of it. It was just replaceable junk, but apparently Starlord was much more sentimental than she was.

One of the guards, a massive blue skinned man, had an orange headset over his ears, bobbing his head to the music from an old 1988 walkman with a huge smirk on his face.

It took her a minute, but Marisol vaguely recognized the thing as her cousin's old cassette tape player. He still had that damned thing after all these years?

How the hell had he not lost it? For that matter, how in the flying fuck had he managed to keep it working after all this time?

Those things were flimsy at best. The longest Marisol had ever gotten one to work was a few months!

Not to mention, it was rare to find Terran things way out in space. Where would he have gotten the batteries for it?

For that matter, how was it that those tapes hadn't been completely trashed by now?

Starlord spotted the guard and instantly grew flustered, marching towards him hastily and derailing Mari's thought train.

"Hey! Hey, put that away! Hey! Listen to me, you big blue bastard! Take those headphones off." The door slid closed behind him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"That's mine!" Starlord huffed. He nodded at the walkman when the blue man continued to ignore him.

"Those belong to impound! That tape and that player is mine!" It was astounding how childish he sounded.

Marisol sighed, as everyone stopped walking to watch as Starlord successfully got a new job as the guard's pinatas.

The blue man leapt up, punching him square in the jaw, knocking him into the barred door.

He continued zapping him with a taser, but the message didn't sink in, because Starlord kept going, rattling off the musical numbers on the tape as proof of his ownership. "Hooked on a Feeling, Blue Swede, 1973! That song belongs to me!"

"Pinche pendejo," Mari sneered, as the guards hauled Starlord up, forcing him out of the room.

Mari strangely adored what came next. It was the part most people hated, but she reveled in it.

It was the part where the splattered the orange goo all over her while she stood buck naked in the center of a large, empty room.

Mari had never been sure what it was for, to cleanse them, maybe. Or maybe it was some sort of spray on tracking device for the guards. They'd never told her before.

All she knew for sure was that it gave her such a rush. The feeling of the liquid spraying onto her face without so much as a warning. The way it blinded her for a few minutes. The drowning sensation...

She lived for danger. The fear. The adrenaline. After living in it for so long she had learned to embrace it, to love it even.

The only downside to the experience was the way it stained her skin orange, like a bad spray on tan.

When the orange shower was over, they took her to her cell, tossing her in with nothing but an obnoxiously bright yellow jumpsuit to put on.

Gamora was already sitting on one of the beds, her own skin stained brown, dressed in the hideous jumpsuit.

Marisol groaned, slipping into her clothes. Rocket wasn't anywhere in sight, which really didn't bode well.

Once she was dressed, she took a seat at the table on the other end of the cell. Mari glanced around, trying to keep her mind racing, to stop the unwanted memories and emotions from surfacing. She wasn't a little kid anymore. She wasn't weak. Wasn't scared.

The cell was more spacious than most of the other ones she'd been in. The walls and barred doors were rusty, but it could fit in two bunk beds, a sofa, and the table so it was pretty nice...for a prison cell anyway.

"Your hands are shaking."

Marisol snapped her head up to glare at Gamora. The other woman was staring at her, her head tilted to one side. "They are not!"

But even as she said it, Mari was becoming acutely aware of the fact that her hands were, indeed, trembling quite a bit.

She shook her head, shoving her hands on her lap and underneath the table so Gamora couldn't see them. That didn't stop her pestering though. "You're claustrophobic? Or is it cleithrophobia? I always get the two confused."

"I don't have any phobias," Mari said quickly. "I'm not afraid of anything."

Gamora held her hands up in surrender, apparently detecting the malice in her voice. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Mari huffed, turning away and ignoring her. As soon as the cell went quiet, though, an icy needle pricked at the back of her neck. Marisol gripped the armrest of her chair, her breathing quickly becoming labored.

She shut her eyes tightly, but that didn't stop the memories from washing over her. Of course Marisol knew she wasn't really there, but somehow her brain was still convinced she was.

She was back in that wretched lab, tied down to that metal chair as that dickwad poked and prodded her, injecting her with liquids and chemicals she had never even heard of before.

Marisol gripped the armrest of her chair so tightly she was sure it was cutting into her skin. At the very least, it was digging into the cut she'd gotten when she'd grabbed Gamora's hatchet, reopening the wound.

She tried focusing on that pain instead, but all it did was remind her of those tests he'd run on both her and Rocket.

Sometimes he'd force them to fight each other, to see who was better. And when they refused to fight he'd poke and prod them some more with a large cattle rod that dug deep into their skin.

"Maybe if you told me what was wrong, I could help you." Gamora's voice cut through the nightmare, abruptly pulling Mari back to reality.

She jumped at the sudden noise. Whirling around again, Marisol sent another glare towards Gamora.

"I don't need your help! I don't need anyone's help, especially not some dumb, green bimbo trying to be a white night to make up for her own sins!"

Gamora huffed. "I am not a bimbo!" She scowled back at her. "You don't have to name call! You were having a panic attack, I was just trying to help!"

"I'm fine!" Mari snapped.

Gamora folded her arms over herself. She huffed indignantly. "Clearly, you are not."

"Vete a la mierda, puta verde!" Marisol yelled, jumping to her feet. She clenched her fists, glowering at Gamora and making her palm bleed again. "You don't know me!"

"I know!" Gamora stood up, her own fists clenching as she stood over the slightly smaller woman. "That doesn't mean I want to see an innocent person suffer!"

Mari rolled her eyes. "Well, aren't you just a fuckin' saint, judías verdes."

She stepped forward so that the two of them were standing nose to nose. "But let's get a few things straight. One, I'm not innocent. I'm wanted on over thirty planets in the galaxy, and for good reason, too. Two, you don't owe me anything, so you don't have to do anything for me because you feel bad about ruining my score!"

Gamora scoffed, rolling her head around in annoyance. "You think I'm being nice because we were arrested? I --"

"Three," Marisol interrupted, "whatever crap you've got going on with your family, I don't care. So, you can drop the act. Not my family, not problem. Leave me out of it, you don't have anything to prove to me.

"Four, I don't know you, and you don't know me. So, stay the hell out of my business, just as you keep me out of yours. I don't have anything to prove to you either."

For a moment, the two women just glared at each other, each waiting for a fight to break out.

Then, Gamora rolled her eyes. "Yeah, fine. Next time I see you in the midst of a panic attack I'll just leave you to it." She whirled around, flopping back on to her bed.

"Fine," Mari hissed in return. She spun on her heel, marching back to the table, roughly sitting back down.

It was a only a moment later, though, that Gamora shifted slightly, nodding at her hand. "But you really should get something to wrap that up. It'll get infected."

Marisol let out a loud, annoyed growl, burrowing her face in her arms on the table.

The prison yard room was massive. A catwalk rose above the main area, where the floor was filled wall to wall with prisoners, mostly men, all wearing the same ugly ass jumpsuit. In the center of the room stood a tall, thirty foot, metal structure.

Marisol sauntered into the room next to Rocket and Groot, Gamora and Starlord trailing behind her.

Marisol had found something to wrap her hand up with in her cell, if not just to shut Gamora up. With a quick glance at her friend, Marisol saw Groot's arm had grown back as well.

A few of the men eyed her seductively, but once she sent her own sneer their way they bolted like the cockroaches they were.

Normally, when she, Rocket, and Groot were arrested she was placed in the male prison alongside her two friends because space prisons were a lot more lenient than earth prisons. So, she was used to this behavior and she knew how to scare the punks off.

It was made especially easy this go around, because most of them were shooting glares at Gamora, signaling with their hands that they planned to kill her when she had let her guard down.

Someone threw something at her but smacked Starlord instead. He slowly glanced up at the catwalk, where a group of men were shouting down at her. "You first! We're comin' for you first, Gamora! You're dead!"

To her credit, Gamora didn't even flinch as she passed through another large group of men. They pointed at her, shouting and throwing things as she walked. "You're scum! You're scum!"

Rocket shrugged, looking up at Starlord. "Like I said, she's got a rep." From the way he'd said it, Marisol guessed he must have been continuing a conversation they'd had earlier while they were still in the cells. "A lot of people lost their families to Ronan and his goons. She'll last a day, tops."

Mari shook her head, letting out a coy laugh. "Nah, there are way too many gente cabreada in here. She won't last but a few hours. What's more, I'll bet you thirty units she doesn't make it through the night."

"You're on!" Rocket nodded curtly. They shook on it.

"I'm standing right here," Gamora huffed. Mari ignored her; so did Rocket.

"Ignore them. They're just being idiots," Starlord told her.

He turned back to Rocket after a moment, though, looking concerned. "The guards will protect her right?"

Strange, the way he seemed so worried for a woman who had just been trying to kill him a few hours ago. Then again, he was pretty stupid.

"They're here to stop us from getting out," Rocket said. "They don't care what we do to each other inside."

"Whatever nightmares the future holds are dreams compared to what's behind me," Gamora said.

Starlord nodded slowly. He looked around the prison yard room, seemingly a bit put off. "So, uh, I've never been to prison before. What do we do now?"

"Never been to prison?" Marisol jeered, leaning over to Groot. "Dios bueno, that's some outlaw, eh?"

"I am Groot," Groot snickered, calling Starlord a loser. Marisol laughed at his remark.

Starlord stared at them, squinting. "Between the Spanish and the tree talk I'm completely lost, but I'm pretty sure your friends are making fun of me," he told Rocket.

"No!" Rocket said, putting his paws on his cheeks and dragging the word out sarcastically.

Starlord rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. But seriously. What do we do?"

Marisol walked up to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, smirking slightly. "Okay, listen closely, chico estrella. First we're going to find the biggest guy here."

"Okay," Starlord said, inching away from her uncomfortably. "And?"

"And we're going to kick his ass," Marisol said simply.

Starlord's face contorted uneasily. "Uh, not that I have a problem with picking fights, but, um...why?"

"Because, wise guy, we need to assert our dominance," Rocket said. He stopped walking, a big, devious grin spreading across his face. "And lookie here. Seems the biggest loser just found us."

Rocket nodded to the ten foot man stomping over their way. He was built like a rock, his muscles thick and round.

His eyes and nose were small, and his ears were covered by flaps of blue skin. Wrinkles lined every inch of his big stupid face.

"I am Groot," Groot mumbled.

Mari nodded. "Yeah, it was pretty easy," she agreed. "We must be getting a rep too." She shrugged when the guy walked up to Starlord instead. "Or not."

The big blue man bared his death down at Starlord, the Terran man nothing more than a tiny spec in his wake. "Check out the new meat." He ran a massive, blue, meaty hand over Starlord's cheek, speaking sweetly, making the Terran cringe. "I'm gonna slather you up in Gunavian jelly and go to town." He chuckled darkly.

Mari sighed, glancing to Rocket, who was lazily looking at his claws, and Groot, who was plucking at some excess leaves on his forearm. "Who's turn is it?"

Whenever they went to a new prison they always took turns beating the crap out of the dominant one, the one who thought they owned the place.

"I am Groot," Groot said.

Mari nodded. "Alright. Go for it."

Groot pushed Starlord behind him, promptly shoving his fingers up the blue man's nose. He must have elongated them so that they were poking the guy's brains out, because he was screaming bloody murder.

Mari's lips quirked upward the slightest bit as the other inmates stopped whatever they'd been doing to look over, fearful looks in their eyes.

Rocket pranced around, waving his arms around dramatically as he shouted into the crowd, his voice booming off the walls. "Let's make something clear. This one here is our booty!"

He pointed at Starlord roughly before smacking himself on the chest with his fist. "You wanna get to him, you go through us... Or more accurately..."

Rocket paused, sending a death glare all around the room as he spun in a slow circle. He might have been pretty frightening if Marisol hadn't known him for most of her life.

His teeth were bared, his eyes a wild fire ready to burn whoever dared stand in his way. "We go through you," he finished with a deep growl.

"And in case that wasn't enough proof that we can tear any of you perdedores down in a matter of seconds," Mari hissed, stepping forward, her own voice echoing menacingly.

She raised her fist, and a wave of purple energy shot out from her hand, washing over everyone in the room.

Marisol never got to see what happened to her body when she used her powers, but she'd been told her eyes changed, turning a deep, menacing violet shade.

Her figure glowed with the same color, her hair rippling behind her even when there was no wind.

In any case, Marisol's powers weren't as pretty as it sounded. She sometimes got dreams of the future; and when she touched any one item, if she focused long enough, she could see its entire history.

(That ability came in handy when pulling off a heist.) Occasionally, she could do this with sentient beings as well, but she didn't do it often because it took a lot of energy.

She could also take control of others' minds and project her nightmares onto others, which is precisely what she did in the prison yard room.

The energy wave she sent spiraling across the way rippled violently, casting all of Marisol's worst experiences into their heads.

Her time with the mad scientist, needles and liquids being forced into her body. That time she'd been kidnapped for ransom, when Rocket had to save her via causing a massive explosion.

She showed them the night Yondu kidnapped her and her cousin, the very same night her life had been changed forever.

She showed them the first time she'd discovered her powers, how she had almost killed her best friend because she couldn't get control of them. Marisol even showed them the night her mother died, her first ever tragedy.

When the images faded from their minds and Marisol's eyes returned to their normal brown, the inmates were quaking in their boots.

There were no more shouts or death threats being thrown at Gamora. No more perverted looks from lustful men. Only fear.

Marisol flashed a stone cold glare throughout the room. She shouted, "Now we run this place! You got that?"

A few of the inmates nodded hurriedly, flinching when Rocket pretended to jump at them. They ran away, Rocket laughing as they retreated.

Starlord stared at her, his eyes going wide, mouth agape. "Marisol?" He fumbled over his words, not even able to form a proper sentence. "I -- I... You... You're... You're..."

"Yeah I know, sad life," Mari said, like she didn't know what he was talking about.

She'd just accidentally given away her identity with that trick. Pity. His ignorance was amusing.

"What? No. I mean, yeah. But that's not what I --" Marisol didn't listen to what he had to say, walking off before he was even halfway done talking.

Groot dropped the blue man to the floor, leaving him sobbing like a baby.

Stepping over him, being sure to send a hard kick to his gut as she went, Marisol followed Rocket and Groot across the walkway. The other inmates made way for them as they passed, cowering in fear.

Starlord glanced around at the other inmates, as they slowly came back around. "Uh, yeah. I'm with them." He hurried after the three crooks.

Rocket looked up at Marisol as they walked, shaking his head the slightest bit. "You shouldn't have done that, you idiot."

Marisol shot a death defying look back down at him. "No me digas que hacer!" she snapped. "Tu no eres mi papa!"

Whenever she got to a point in which she was thoroughly ticked off, Marisol slipped into rapid fire Spanish.

Usually this happened whenever she and Rocket were in an argument, generally being an argument about her powers.

He liked to lecture her about them, as if he somehow knew more about them than she did, as if he were the one who had them.

Naturally, Marisol hated the lectures, so she grew vexed every time he started in on her.

"Hey! Don't get snippy with me, little lady!" Rocket hissed back, somehow sounding even more like a father scolding his child than before. "You know how easily over exerted you get when you use your powers like that!"

"Deja de mimar, roedor demasiado crecido," Mari growled, her words translating to: quit your coddling, you overgrown rodent.

It was a low blow, considering how sensitive Rocket was about being compared to a life form on such a lower level, but Marisol was beyond frustrated with his lectures.

It was especially irksome, because she knew he was right. She was already feeling her body being drained of all its energy.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and her limbs were turning to lead. There was a sharp sting on her temple.

"Hey! Watch it!" Rocket snarled, baring his teeth at her.

Marisol rolled her eyes, completely unmoved by his threat. She had lost count how many of their arguments had ended just like this; and after a while the threats lost their edge.

They meant little to nothing anyways. "Estoy bien."

But her head felt like she was being repeatedly jabbed with a fork, and it was getting rather difficult to move her feet.

"Yeah, yeah," Rocket waved it away. "I know. I know." He stalked off, completely forgetting about the rodent comment. "Just watch it, alright?"

Mari sighed and nodded. "Alright," she said, switching back to English.

Groot looked between them, a worried frown on his face, like he always got when the two of them argued about Marisol's powers.

After a moment of confliction, he chose to follow Rocket, leaving Starlord and Mari alone.

Starlord let out a deep breath. "Wow. That was..."

"Don't talk to me, chico estrella," Mari cut him off, too tired to listen to his moronic musings.

She pushed her way past an arm wrestling duo, only to find that Starlord was following her.

She groaned, rolling her eyes for what felt like the millionth time in the last seven hours. (Maybe Rocket had been right about that too. She really did roll her eyes a lot.)

Spinning around with a heavy sigh, Marisol fixed her gaze on her cousin. "What do you want?"

"I, uh --" He hesitated, moving around the arm wrestlers with a bit of a struggle. "I think we should talk."

"We are talking. What do you want?" Marisol repeated impatiently.

She just wanted to sit down and rest for a damn minute, was that too much to ask?!

"I... meant we should talk alone," Starlord said, gesturing at all the other inmates around them. "Without all the witnesses to over hear."

Marisol let out a short, sharp laugh. "You think I'm dumb enough to let you get me alone? Vete a la mierda."

As far as he knew, he had no idea she already knew who he was. She could still have a bit of fun with that.

Starlord gagged a little. "What? No, gross!" At her narrowed eyes he hastily added, "I mean, you're pretty and all that, sure, but..." He trailed off, sighing in frustration.

Marisol's mouth curled upwards the slightest bit at that. His stuttering made this even more hilarious to her.

"You got something you wanna say, you say it to me right here, chico estrella. And make it snappy. I'm not a patient woman."

"Fine." He hesitated for another moment. "Look, don't you remember me at all?"

Marisol shrugged. She shoved a lady off her seat before stealing the spot for herself; when they lady tried stealing it back, Marisol sneered at her, her eyes flashing purple as she prepared to use her powers again.

The woman ran off, tail between her legs. Marisol grinned, turning back to Starlord with a shrug. "Sure, I tried to kidnap you for money."

Starlord sighed again, shaking his head. "I meant before that!" He searched her face for any sign of recognition, when he found none he went on senselessly. "Okay, I guess that's fair. I didn't recognize you at first either. It has been twenty-six years after all. But come on! I don't even look kind of familiar to you?"

Marisol gave the man a once over. She pretended to think for a moment, taking a closer look at him.

It was actually the first good look she'd gotten of him since Rocket had first spotted him. The first time she cared enough to really notice him.

He had actually changed a lot over the years, but that was to be expected wasn't it?

His sandy hair was tussled around, sticking up every which way with not a single hint of style.

His hazel eyes flashed with a spark of self importance, and that cocky smirk of his would have one believe any woman would instantly fall in love with him upon seeing him, despite his body being just a little more than average.

Marisol didn't believe he really had any reason at all to carry himself the way he did.

He really didn't have the looks to justify the condescending jack ass attitude.

The only thing he really had going for him was the slight scruff on his chin, but that was being generous.

Marisol snapped her fingers, flashing him the most moronic smile she could manage. "Ah, I got it. You're the guy that sold me that bad pizza that one time, yeah?"

She frowned. "Wait. No. I killed him, never mind."

"Yeah, no," Starlord shook his head. "Look." He glanced around nervously, even though no one was watching them.

They'd all gone back to harassing Gamora. "That vision you showed everyone, it was about me."

Mari clenched her fists at her sides, sitting up straight, pretending to get angry. "Excuse me?" He took a hesitant back.

"Those were all my memories, pinche pendejo! My experiences. Not yours. Don't sully them by pretending you have any part in my life!"

"That's just it, I think I do!" Starlord said.

Marisol stood from her chair so fast that the table nearly flipped over; she raised her fist to deck him.

He held his hands up to shield his face. "I'm your cousin!" he shouted desperately.

Marisol stopped, lowering her hands to her sides again. She stared at him, eyes widening; when she spoke her voice was ice cold. "What did you just say?"

She probably should have let up a little, but she was having so much fun watching him squirm.

Starlord slowly lowered his own hands, looking back at her timidly.

"I'm your cousin," he repeated. "That memory you showed the inmates? The one where your getting abducted at the hospital after your aunt passed away? That's my memory too. That was my mom. I'm Peter, Mari."

He took a step towards her, promoting her to move backwards.

Trying her best not to bust out laughing, she said, "How do I know you're not just saying that?"

"Why would I lie about this?" Starlord asked incredulously.

Marisol shrugged. "People have lied about much less before," she pointed out.

"Uh, touché," he nodded. "But I'm not lying. I swear on my mother's grave."

Marisol looked him over for another moment, silently considering dropping the act.

She could tell he was dead serious and getting very flustered... So, naturally, she took it a bit further. "Alright, then. Prove it. Prove to me you're my primito. Tell me something only he would know."

He looked thoughtful for a count of three seconds, before saying, "Your mother died just before your ninth birthday."

"I just showed everyone that memory," she reminded him. "Nice try."

She turned, ready to leave and find out where Rocket and Groot had gone off to, only Starlord grabbed her arm before she could get very far.

Marisol twirled around, fist raised to punch him, but he grabbed that arm too. Starlord looked her in the eyes seriously. "I wasn't finished."

He let her go, and she elevated her hand, signaling for him to proceed.

"Your mom died just before your ninth birthday," he said again. "The last thing she gave you before she passed was a purple necklace. You never took it off. Ever. Said it was like having a part of her with you wherever you went, like she wasn't really gone. But you didn't like telling people that because they always looked at you differently when you did. You always told me I was the only one who didn't."

Marisol stared back at him blankly. Absently, her hand drifted to her neck, only to find it was bare.

She'd almost forgotten she'd lost the necklace the same year Yondu sold her to the scientist. (More like he had taken it from her because it would have somehow interfered with the experiments.)

Marisol shook her head. She hadn't thought about that stupid thing in ages. "I could have told anyone that story. That's not that special."

"Hold up," Starlord sighed. "I'm still not done." Mari rolled her eyes, but she let him go on. "One day this really mean bitch named Jolene Stewerts stole it from your cubby during gym class. And when you tried to get it back, it fell on the floor and cracked. You were really upset about it, so you and me decided to get her back.

"We broke into her house the next night and cut off all her hair and defaced all her stupid little dollies. At the time that was the worst thing either of us had ever done before, so we made a pact to never tell anyone. Ever. It was our little secret."

Marisol remained quiet for a moment, promoting Starlord to roll his hand. "Okay, now I'm done."

Mari broke out into a small grin. "You left out the part where we tied all her shoelaces together so it'd be impossible for her to wear any of them."

He grinned back, chuckling under his breath at the memory. "Yeah, for the next two weeks she had to come to school shoeless and all the other kids started making fun of her for a change."

They shared a little laugh, then he grew serious again. "So, you believe me, now?"

"Yeah," she said. "I knew who you were the whole time. I've just been busting your balls." Marisol snickered behind her hand, as Peter's eyes widened.

He stared at her for a total of two minutes, mouth hanging open, making him look like a fish out of water. "I -- Seriously?? Why would you do that?! That's so rude!"

Marisol laughed. "It was funny!"

Peter groaned, shaking his head and letting out a heavy sigh. Then he flashed her another small grin. "I thought they'd killed you."

"They did," she said seriously, making him frown again. "Marisol González is dead. It's just Chimera now." With that, she walked away, leaving a befuddled Starlord behind her.


	4. The Dream and the Destroyer

Marisol's dreams had never made much sense, even before these powers had been thrust upon her. One would think that being able to dream the future would be helpful.

That she'd be able to conjure up the winning lottery tickets or what the weather would be like on any given planet the day of a big heist. Something useful like that.

Nope. All she got was completely and utterly random nonsense. How was that useful? What was she supposed to do with a bunch of unconnected junk?

More than anything, the dreams annoyed her to no end. They were impossible to decipher, which was more than a little nerve wracking for her, considering she had an inexplicable urge to solve every puzzle out there. Her dreams just weren't solvable.

That night at the prison Marisol had one of her most confusing, and frankly spookiest, dreams yet.

It started out with nothing but darkness; slowly light leaked in, as a sliding door was thrust open, revealing a small crate from the inside.

The crate was carrying a massive, two ton, golden gauntlet, fixed with six little slots where one could attach gems if they wanted. (Personally Marisol thought it would have looked better with some jewels. It also would have been twice as valuable, which meant she'd get more money for selling it if she ever got her hands on it.)

"Fine." The voice reverberated around the crate, rattling it the slightest bit. It was low, deep, menacing. Angry. "I'll do it myself." Then, the mad titan himself appeared in front of the crate. His form was gigantic.

Marisol imagined he was probably the same size as two whole earth mountains; he could probably squash anyone who stood in his way all by his lonesome. (Which made the army sort of arbitrary, but Marisol didn't make a habit of judging other people's evil schemes.)

Thanos reached inside the crate, his purple skin seemingly darker in the light of the suns behind him. The golden armor over his body, glinted in the light threateningly.

The mad titan grabbed the gauntlet inside the crate, sliding it onto his arm, slowly.

Before Marisol could figure out just what he was going to "do himself" the scene changed, filling in the gaps for her.

It was a Xandarian city. For a moment, everything was nice. Perfect and stupid as per usual... In the blink of an eye, everything changed.

A thick, purple cloud washed over the city in one swift motion. People ran and screamed, but there was no where to hide. In a matter of seconds, everything was destroyed.

Woman, children, and even the mightiest of men didn't stand a chance. They were struck down, screaming in agony as the cloud washed over them, leaving behind nothing but their mangled corpses.

The city itself was destroyed, as its people were brought to their knees. Buildings crumpled, falling apart like bad bread. Vehicles fell from the sky, crashing and burning along with everything else.

A massive sink hole formed, swallowing all the water and beautiful structures within seconds.

The scene changed again. This time Ronan the Accuser was standing before five very dead looking figures.

His blue skin, lined with black markings, was covered in dust, as he sauntered from the debris and rubble of Xander. He swept a hand over the five figures, calling out to whatever survivors might still be out there. "Behold! Your Guardians of the Galaxy!"

The dream washed over the figures' faces like some sort of shitty movie, revealing the faces of Drax the Destroyer, Gamora, Rocket, Peter Quill, and Marisol herself.

Each of them were beaten badly. Rocket looked like he couldn't stand. He might have even been dead. Mari couldn't tell.

Her own form was curled up into a ball, shutting down from whatever fight had occured moments before this scene.

Drax and Gamora looked no better, but somehow they still managed to look ready for a fight; Peter was already struggling to his feet.

But even through the horrific scene something felt off. It took Marisol a minute to figure it out, but another look at herself and Rocket made it clear: Groot was missing.

Again, the scene changed, before Marisol could even wonder where her sweet little tree had gone off to.

Now, they were standing in an unfamiliar place, watching as it too burned to the ground.

Thanos held Gamora tightly from the back of her neck as she sobbed pleadingly. Marisol herself stood off to the side.

Her cousin was next to her, aiming a blaster directly at Gamora's heart, but it didn't look like he was doing it willingly. His eyes were shut tightly, and his hand was trembling terribly.

Gamora stared at him, tears streaming down her face like waterfalls. "I love you more than anything."

The image changed once more. They were back on Xander, even Gamora. The five Guardians of the Galaxy, as Ronan had called them, were falling from the sky.

Groot had wrapped a shield around everyone, fireflies swarming around them. Marisol had only ever seen him do that one other time.

She and Rocket didn't allow him to do it often, because they worried he would over extend himself...which is exactly what he was doing in the dream.

That explained why he wasn't with the others in the Ronan scene... Belatedly, Marisol questioned why she couldn't seem to see the events in their rightful order. It was very irksome.

Marisol and Rocket were at Groot's sides, begging him to stop before he killed himself. When Rocket demanded why he was doing this, Groot simply looked him in the eyes and said, "We are Groot." Then, he died. (It was the hardest thing Marisol had ever had to watch unfold in her dreams.)

The next few scenes was filled with a montage of people Marisol had never even met before. It looked as though most of them were from Terra, Earth.

There was a man running around in a black cat suit, an army of highly sophisticated warriors at his side. A kid dressed in a red and blue costume swung from building to building with what looked like a spider web. Another man, wearing metal red and gold armor was flying after him.

Marisol could see a red haired woman and a red skinned man running and hiding from someone; the man changed his appearance so that he looked like a normal Terran.

A blonde man ran with super speed in front of another man carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows, just in time to take a bullet for him. The blonde looked at the Green Arrow man, smirking through the pain. "Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Another blonde man was running around, tossing a massive red, white, and blue shield at his enemies. He was fighting along side a man with a metal arm.

Standing on a cliff over the waters of, Marisol guessed, Norway, a woman with long dark hair dressed in green was smirking deviously. In front of her, two men were glaring at her.

The man on the left was dressed similarly to her, his own dark hair coming to a stop at his shoulders. The man on the right was dressed in red and silver armor, a heavy looking hammer in his hands, long blonde hair flowing in the wind.

The blonde man threw his hammer at the woman, only for her to catch it in mid air, shattering it to pieces. The men exchanged worried glances. "That's not possible," the blonde mumbled.

"Darling," the woman sneered. "You have no idea what's possible."

A woman with short blonde hair and a cape flew through the air, punching her way right through a space ship, which was kind of hot, Marisol thought.

Below her, the others and many, many more stood as an army, banding together to defeat Thanos and his own army.

The red haired woman was seen again, single handedly beating the shit out of Thanos, before he was forced to move away from her.

The man with shield was seen throwing around a hammer now, fighting next to the other blonde man, who had put on a few pounds and was now fighting with a scythe.

Spider boy was swinging around rapidly. It looked as though he were trying to keep something away from the purple skinned titan, the women warriors guarding him.

The fight was so fast paced and confusing, it made Marisol's head spin; and it was much too hard to follow, especially considering she had no idea who any of these people were.

All around the battle field warriors of different decent waved their hands rapidly, using weapons made from golden light.

Men and women jabbed at Thanos' army with spears and swords. A few of the soldiers even brandished laser guns.

Ships soared through the air, blasting at each other with their weapons. Marisol couldn't tell which vessels were friendly and which were the foes, though.

Marisol tried to will the to fast forward, (if she was dreaming lucidly then it made sense for her to be able to control her dreams, didn't it?) but all she managed to do was to make herself feel dizzy. (Which was odd. How could one be dizzy in a dream?)

All she knew for sure was that the fight ended with the death of the man in the red and gold suit.

The scene shifted one last time. The image was of Marisol and yet another man she didn't know.

He looked Terran, but he was dressed strangely -- a long red cloak over his shoulders, a robe fitted neatly against his skin, yellow gloves over his hands.

His facial hair was well trimmed, and his brown hair was swooped over to one side. (Though, his most noticeable feature was definitely those prominent cheek bones.)

Marisol looked as though she had recently taken a swim inside a dumpster. Her hair was matted and gross. Her clothes were torn to shreds, and her favorite boots had more than a few holes on them.

The duo was standing alone on what looked like the planet Titan, the home of Thanos. There was a ship wreckage behind them.

A group of people stood in front of them -- Peter, Drax, that spider kid, the man in gold and red, and a woman with tan skin and antennae. They were all arguing.

The man in the cloak glanced at Marisol, ignoring the others. "You saw it to?"

Marisol nodded, her face down cast, expression completely passive.

"Then, it really is the only way," he said.

"Yup," Marisol sighed.

The dream ended with a montage of varies planets being over run by a giant blue blob, people running and desperately trying to escape it to no avail.

Marisol found herself standing before the blob, trying to escape herself. But her legs wouldn't move fast enough. Her body was plowed over by the blob.

Marisol jumped up, a short gasp escaping her lips as she woke up. For a moment, she just sat there, breathing rapidly through her nose before she was finally able to get a grip on herself.

Slowly, she lowered her head back down onto the mangy pillow the guards forced the inmates to sleep with. She closed her eyes, hoping to fall back to sleep, but it was an impossible task, the nightmare from before swirling around in her head.

She couldn't keep the images from her mind's eye no matter what she tried. Sleep became even more impossible when a startled yelp sounded a few feet away.

With a groan, Marisol peeled her eyes open just wide enough that she could see what was going on.

Gamora was surrounded by Caucasian men, one of which held a knife to her throat. She was struggling to get away from them, but she was vastly outnumbered.

Marisol smiled, closing her eyes again. Rocket owes me thirty units, she thought giddily.

She heard one of the guards saying, "Take her down to the showers. It'll be easier to clean up the blood down there."

Gamora screamed, the men dragging her down the hall, slamming the cell shut behind them.

Marisol tried getting back to sleep again, except now that she was awake the memories of her past fought their way to the forefront of her mind along side the images from her nightmare. The walls were seemingly closing in on her, her breathing becoming rigid.

She tried distracting herself by thinking about Peter's walkman. There had to be some sort of modification done to the stupid little tape recorder.

It was the only thing that made sense, really. There was no way that thing would have lasted so long otherwise. The question was... What had Peter done to it?

When she couldn't think of anything right away, Mari sat up, cursing under her breath. She jumped out of bed, pacing around a bit before letting out a frustrated cry. Marisol pushed on the door out of frustration, stumbling a little when it unexpectedly moved.

She stood upright and pushed it the rest of the way open. Marisol scoffed.

That moronic guard left the door unlocked. She started down the hall, absently following Gamora's screams. She might as well go watch the show.

Along the way she passed a room where her cousin and Rocket were dog piled on the floor with some other brutes.

She wasn't sure why they were all sleeping that way. All the inmates had cells, so this method of sleep seemed rather redundant, if not just completely fucking weird.

The men dragged Gamora by the room, her screams waking Peter and Rocket. Peter stood up, meeting Marisol at the doorway.

He didn't stop for hi's though, hurriedly moving after the men and Gamora. He didn't look like he wanted in on the action either. Marisol sighed. He had grown into such an idiot.

Rocket hopped on Marisol's shoulder, exchanging looks with her before calling after Peter in a hushed tone. "Quill, where are you going? Quill! Quill!"

He didn't answer though, following the men downstairs and right into the showers. Rocket sighed, glancing at Marisol, whispering, "We gotta follow him don't we?"

"What are you asking me for?" Marisol whispered back.

"Well he's your stupid cousin!" Rocket said a bit too loudly.

Marisol shushed him; the duo glanced over at the brutes, making sure they hadn't woken up. (Though it was a wonder how Gamora hadn't woken them. She was screaming pretty loudly.) They didn't need any more trouble than what Starlord and Gamora were about to drag them into.

Marisol didn't ask how Rocket had figured how Quill was her cousin. He'd probably just over heard it with his better than average hearing when they'd been talking about it earlier. She rolled her eyes, following Quill and the brutes.

By the time Rocket and Marisol had caught up with Peter, the brutes had Gamora pinned to the wall, knife held under her throat.

She glared back at them, unwavering, as one man spat in her face. "Gamora, consider this a death sentence for your crimes against the galaxy."

Marisol rolled her eyes. How many people in this prison wanted this bitch dead for working with Ronan? Hundreds? Thousands?

At least ten, which was about as many men that had gathered in the showers. All because she'd helped kill their families or some bunk.

Sentiment. It was such a waste of time. Marisol could think of at least ten better ways to spend her time in prison than seeking revenge for some dead idiots.

The showers were fairly ghastly. Despite the guard's proclamation that the blood would be easier to clean up, multicolored splatters had dried on the titles' surface, crusting over the slightest bit.

The shower heads were rusted, and the dials for hot and cold water were crusted over as well.

Marisol guessed these things hadn't been used in ages, and she doubted one could start up a shower even if they wanted to from the looks of it. (That would explain the rancid stench of the inmates.)

She glared at her cousin, as they ducked behind the wall. "I can't believe you dragged me all the way down here for this!"

"You didn't have to come," Starlord whispered back. "Besides, you were already following them anyways!"

"Well, someone had to kept your moronic ass from getting yourself killed," Marisol hissed. "And I wanted to watch the show!"

"Then what are you complaining for?" Peter sighed.

"It's fun and makes you look stupid...and it's not very hard, honestly," Marisol shrugged.

"You know, you're a lot meaner than I remember," Peter scoffed quietly.

"And you're a lot more moronic than I remember," Marisol shot back.

Peter looked like he was about to argue against that statement, but before he could, Rocket waved at them both frantically from where he stood between the two cousins.

"Shh!! Big guy, three o'clock!" Rocket warned.

The cousins turned, spotting the 'big guy' Rocket was referring to. He wasn't as large as the man Groot had taken down earlier, but he was still pretty massive. His skin was a dull grey, thick red veins bulging out all along his body.

He wore no shirt, revealing his six pack abs. Marisol recognized him from the galactic news too. Drax the Destroyer, they called him.

Very dangerous guy. (Marisol tried very hard not to think about the fact that she'd just been dreaming about him.)

Marisol had met him one other time. She'd been working a solo job, since she and Rocket had been in a spat over who's turn it was to cook dinner.

(She always cooked. It wasn't fair! Why didn't he ever do it for once?!)

They hadn't really talked much, though because he was too busy tearing apart some egg heads with his bare hands, but after that Marisol had gained a great deal of respect for the man.

Drax marched towards the men attacking Gamora, his eyes narrowed.

The two cousins and Rocket ducked around the corner when he passed, but it was unnecessary. He didn't even take notice of them at all.

When he spoke, his voice was just above a growl, reverberating through throat. "You dare?"

The men whirled around, facing Drax with fearful looks. Slowly, they stepped away from Gamora, their legs wobbling as Drax stepped closer. "You know who I am, yes?"

Marisol snickered, watching the stupid bastards squirm under the Destroyer's harsh gaze.

The sight was even funnier than Peter's face when he'd realized she'd been fooling him. Rocket shushed her, and she rolled her eyes at him.

The prisoners nodded frantically. They all shifted uncomfortably.

One of them, a sleazeball with slick, greasy hair, stepped forward. "You're Drax the Destroyer."

"And you know why they call me this?" Drax said, coming to a stop in front of the brutes, his sights set on Gamora.

His gaze was harsh, beyond furious. He looked murderous, and Marisol stifled her excitement as best she could.

The idea of seeing Drax the Destroyer, well, destroy something was enticing, to say the least.

Peter shot her a disapproving look; Marisol sighed. So, he had gotten a hero complex along with his stupidity. How annoying.

"You slayed dozens of Ronan's minions," the sleazeball answered nervously. He fiddled with his hands like a shy child.

Drax gave a curt nod. "Ronan murdered my wife, Ovette, and my daughter, Camaria."

He glared at Gamora; she looked down but said nothing as he went on. "He slaughtered them where they stood. And he laughed!" Drax yelled that last word, screaming it in the face of one prisoner, making him flinch back. Then, quieter, he addressed the brutes. "Her life is not yours to take."

Oh boo! Marisol grumbled inwardly. The Destroyer is a sap too! Lame!

She hoped he would at least make Gamora's death last a good long while to make up for it.

The guy was a complete psycho, so rumors had it. And the last time Marisol had seen him, he had been relentless.

He'd probably make her death last as long as possible, as painful as he could possibly make it. At least Marisol hoped so.

Otherwise he wasn't much of a Destroyer was he? She would also lose a great deal of respect for the guy, if that were the case.

Saps were annoying. If it turned out he was actually Drax the Sap...Well, it would be disheartening, really.

He looked back at Gamora, meeting her eyes. "He killed my family. I shall kill one of his in return."

"Of course, Drax," the man with the knife nodded. "Here, I…"

He handed him the knife. Drax took it, but before he could use it, Gamora leapt forward, crashing her firsts into the men holding her down.

Moving faster than lightning, she yanked the knife away from Drax, taking another from one of the men who'd had her pinned, aiming them at Drax and whoever else dared get close to her.

Groaning inwardly, Marisol rolled her eyes. She was getting a bit impatient. The blood splatter was taking much too long!

If they weren't going to kill her any time soon, then she wasn't going to stick around. Marisol moved, ready to leave, but of course Peter just had to act like a fool.

He slowly stepped out into the light, approaching the brutes and Gamora. Rocket called after him in a whisper-shout. "Quill! What are you doing?"

"I'm not family of Ronan or Thanos," Gamora told Drax, apparently not noticing Peter yet.

Though Marisol wasn't sure how. He couldn't have been more obvious if he'd had a big neon sign above his head reading: Look over here, losers! I'm a big, fat idiot!

Then, as if to prove just how brave and heroic she was, Gamora stepped back, dropping the knives and letting them clatter to the floor.

A bit stupid in Marisol's opinion. These men wouldn't give a damn about heroics, especially not from someone like her.

If anything she'd just opened herself up for attacks. But of course she just had to hop up on that high horse of hers and ride it into the stupid sunset!

Marisol scoffed. If there was anything more annoying than saps it was heroes.

Always acting better than everyone. Thinking they knew what was best for the world. She didn't need that shit!

"I'm your only hope at stopping him," Gamora told Drax.

With an angry roar, Drax ran forward, picking up the knife and slamming Gamora into the wall again; she let out a cry of pain.

He pinned her by the throat, aiming the knife at the side of her head. "Woman, your words mean nothing to me!"

For a brief moment, Marisol's excitement returned. She even almost cheered out with glee, sure that the action was finally about to start... Then, he cousin had to ruin everything.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" Peter said, holding his hands out uselessly. This brought everyone's attention to him and, subsequently, to Rocket and Marisol as well.

Rocket ran a paw over his snout, groaning softly. "Aw, crap."

Marisol scowled at the back of her cousin's head harshly. It was bad enough that he was intercepting the show, but he had to call attention to her and Rocket, too! He was such an idiot!

"If we don't die, remind me to kill him for this later." Rocket nodded curtly in response, the two getting ready to fight, just in case.

Peter looked at Drax, talking complete shit. "You know, if killing Ronan is truly your sole purpose, I don't think this is the best way to go about it."

Drax glared back at Quill. "Are you not the man this wench attempted to kill?" He squeezed Gamora's throat a little tighter, causing her to gasp for air, as he said the word 'wench.'

Peter shrugged. "Well, I mean, she's hardly the first woman who tried to do that to me. Look." He lifted his shirt up, pointing to a scar on his side. "This is from a smoking-hot Rajak girl. Stabbed me with a fork. Didn't like me skippin' out on her at sunrise."

Mari laughed at that. She knew from her own experiences just how hostile Rajak girls could be, especially when you used them for one night stands or didn't call them back after the first date.

The image of her cousin being attacked by one of those chicks was almost enough to make up for his being a complete moron.

Peter lowered his shirt, pulling down his collar. "I got, right here, a Kree girl tried to rip out my thorax." He pointed to another scar on his throat. "She caught me with a skinny little A'askavariian who worked Nova Records. I was tryna get information."

He shrugged, like whatever wrongdoing was completely justified. Then he ruined it by talking some more. "You ever see an A'askavariian? They have tentacles and needles for teeth. If you seriously think I'm interested in that, then…" He made a face.

Drax growled, looking impatient, and Peter shifted nervously. "You don't care," he realized. "But here's the point."

He nodded to Gamora. "She betrayed Ronan. He's coming back for her. And when he does you…"

He ran his finger along his throat, sticking his tongue out and making a gagging noise.

Drax looked confused. "Why would I put my finger on his throat?"

"What?" Peter squinted, before realizing he needed to explain. "Oh, this is a symbol. This is a symbol for you slicing his throat."

"I would not slice his throat," Drax said. "I would cut his head clean off."

"It's a general expression for you killing somebody," Peter explained. He glanced over at one of the other inmates for backup. "You've heard of this. You've seen this, right?" He did the motion again. The prisoner nodded quickly.

Drax turned to the guy too. "You know what that is?"

"Yeah, yeah," the guy said frantically. "Everyone knows."

"No, no," another inmate warned, afraid of Drax.

"Santo infierno!" Marisol cursed. "It doesn't matter!"

Peter nodded in agreement. "Yeah you're right." He turned back to Drax. "What I'm saying is, you want to keep her alive." He gestured at Gamora. "Don't do his work for him."

Marisol was sure that Drax was about to kill them all, but with one final dirty look at the daughter of Thanos, he dropped Gamora to the ground and stepped away.

Gamora fell to her knees, gagging and coughing uncontrollably for several minutes.

Drax slowly turned his gaze to the knife in his hand. "I like this knife. I'm keeping it." He stalked off, looking annoyed more than anything.

The red eyed man Drax had taken it from pouted. "That was my favorite knife…"

Marisol patted his back with fake sympathy. "That's why you don't get attached to inanimate objects, mi amigo."

"Listen!" Peter was saying, as they left the showers, Gamora at the lead once more. "I couldn't care less whether you lived or whether you died."

Gamora spun around on her heel, instantly calling his bluff. "Then, why stop the big guy?"

"Simple," Peter said.

Marisol leaned against the wall, arms folded in front of her, a smirk plastered on her face. "You want in her pants?"

She'd said it as a joke, but as she recalled the scene in her dream in which Gamora had told Peter she loved him the humor became a bit stale.

Peter and Gamora whirled around, both staring with wide eyes. Rocket snickered. "You know," he said, scurrying up on Mari's shoulder. "I've actually been thinking the same thing."

Peter shook his head. "Well, you're wrong. Both of you." He turned back to Gamora. "The real reason is: you know where to sell my orb."

Gamora scoffed. "How are we going to sell it when we, and it, are still here?"

Peter grinned, a no doubt dumb ass idea forming in his head. He nodded to Rocket, who was still perched on Marisol's shoulder. "My friend Rocket, here, has escaped twenty-two prisons."

Rocket nodded slowly. "Oh, we're gettin' out," he said, absolutely sure of himself. "And then we're going straight to Yondu to retrieve your bounty." He pointed at Quill, squinting his eyes threateningly.

Peter scoffed, turning to Marisol. "But I'm your cousin!"

Marisol shrugged, Rocket shifting slightly at the movement. She looked back at Starlord with a blank stare. "We might share the same blood, chico estrella, but we haven't seen each other in over twenty years. We're hardly related anymore."

"That's ridiculous," Peter protested. "Of course we're still family! We still have the same blood and DNA and stuff."

Marisol rolled her eyes. "DNA doesn't always confirm who your family is." She pointed at Rocket. "Rocket and I go way back. And I haven't seen you in nearly three decades. So, as far as I'm concerned, he's more family than you've ever been."

Peter's expression was one of hurt and betrayal, but Marisol wasn't sure he had any right to wear it. Did he honestly think the plan would change just because he'd proved he was her cousin?

"Damn, that's cold. I remember there was a time when you actually cared for your family. For everyone, for that matter. And now you're just...a walking block of ice." He gestured at her dramatically.

She gave another careless shrug, forcing Rocket to jump off of her at the movement. "People change, Primito. They don't stay eleven years old forever."

"How did you get this way?" he asked, actually having the audacity to look concerned for her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "After everything I showed you and the other inmates, you're really gonna ask me that?"

Rocket shifted. The movement was brief, but Marisol still caught it. He got like that sometimes whenever their time as lab rats was brought up, all uncomfortable and fidgety. They didn't talk about it often, but she knew he was just as messed up as she was because of it.

Gamora and Peter glanced at the ground, not meeting Marisol or Rocket's eyes.

That was the annoying thing about people finding out you'd been tortured for half hour life. They treated you like you were broken.

After a moment Quill shook his head, looking up at Gamora, speaking as though the last few sentences of their conversation hadn't been uttered. "How much was your buyer willing to pay you for my Orb?"

Gamora sighed, turning to Quill, her voice monotone. "Four billion units."

Rocket jumped up; Mari's eyes widened. The two exchanged looks with one another. That was way more than they were being offered for Quill's bounty. "What?" Rocket yelped.

"Holy shit," Quill mumbled.

"I could buy hundreds of flying douchebag cars with that many units," Marisol realized.

Gamora nodded, not meeting any of their eyes. "The Orb is my opportunity to get away from Thanos and Ronan." She glanced at Rocket briefly. "If you free us, I'll lead you to the buyer directly, and I'll split the profit between the four of us."

Groot appeared next to Marisol, seemingly coming from out of nowhere. "I am Groot," he corrected.

"The five of us," Rocket translated. He looked up at Groot, exasperated. "Asleep for the danger, awake for the money, as per frickin' usually!"

Mari nodded slowly, gently patting Groot on the arm. "Yeah, we gotta work on that, mi arbolito dulce."


	5. The Break Out

The group gathered in the main area of the yard room, while the rest of the inmates began stirring, getting up for their morning meals and chores.

Marisol disregarded all of this. She knew full well just how repulsive prison food could be; she tended to avoid it whenever she was able.

Starlord and some of the others yawned, exhausted from having gotten little to no sleep the night before.

Marisol's own eyes burned slightly, but she was used to getting a minimal amount of sleep by this point in her life.

She hadn't, after all, had a proper rest through the night since she was eleven years old thanks to the torture she'd endured and the nightmares that plagued her sleep.

The thought of nightmares invited her dream from the night before to come rushing back to her. Marisol grimaced, forcing the images from her mind before they became too over whelming. She needed to focus on getting out of this hell hole.

"By the way," Rocket said when he spotted Marisol. "You owe me thirty units."

"What!?" Marisol snapped, suddenly forgetting all about her nightmare. She shook her head roughly. "Nuh-uh! You owe me thirty units! We had just barely been here one night before she was attacked!" She pointed at Gamora, who rolled her eyes.

"The deal was she wouldn't last a night," Rocket recapped. "Not lasting means she gets dead. And, uh," he laughed deviously, "she looks pretty alive to me!"

Marisol rolled her own eyes, scoffing quite a bit. "Bullshit! She would have been dead if my cousin wasn't such a pinche pendejo!"

"Well, it still counts." Rocket folded his arms over his chest, looking up at her with a stubborn look of scorn.

Mari shook her head again vigorously. "It does not count!"

"It does too!" Rocket insisted.

"It does not!" Marisol huffed, pointing at her cousin. "He interfered with our bet!"

"We discussed nothing about anyone not being able to interfere," Rocket said. "So, I say it counts!"

"Well, I say it doesn't!" Marisol grumbled. The two best friends glared at each other, the others standing behind them, all looking fairly annoyed.

"It counts!" Rocket said before turning to Groot. "Groot, tell her it counts!"

Before the tree man could respond, though, Marisol let out an angry groan. She threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Eres un bastardo infiel!"

Rocket rolled his eyes, arms still folded over his chest. "I am not a cheating bastard! You're just a sore loser!"

"I am Groot," Groot interrupted, telling them to shut up.

The two went quiet, both mumbling words of irritation under their breath before quickly growing serious again.

Rocket stood up straight, dusting himself off a bit. "Right. Escaping. Well, if we're gonna get out of here, we're gonna need to get into that watchtower." He pointed to the structure at the center of the yard room.

Rocket hopped on the table as everyone else took a seat around him. He spoke seriously, drawing the group's attention on to himself. "And to do that, I'm gonna need a few things."

Nodding up to one of the catwalks where a guard was fiddling with the device of his wrist, he said, "The guards wear security bands to control their ins and outs." A prisoner left the room as the guard opened a door. "I need one."

Gamora nodded curtly, leaning forward, pressing her hands to the table as she spoke monotonously. "Leave it to me."

Rocket gave his own nod in response. Glancing around the yard room to see what else he'd need for their escape, he spotted one prisoner with a robotic leg, hobbling around with his food tray. "That guy there," he pointed to him, "I need his prosthetic leg."

Marisol shot him a look, raising an eyebrow at him. He shrugged back at her, and she rolled her eyes for about the thousandth time that week. (It was a wonder they didn't get stuck in the back of her head, the amount of times she did that.)

"His leg?" Quill asked. He looked questioning too, but clearly he was the dumber of the two cousins, because he was fairly easy to fool.

"Yeah," Rocket said, "God knows I don't need the rest of him. Look at him, he's useless."

Quill shrugged. "Alright."

Rocket turned once more, jumping onto Marisol's shoulder. "And finally, on the wall back there is a black panel. Blinky yellow light. Do you see it?"

The group followed his gaze, taking notice of the panel he was referring to. Quill nodded, "Yeah."

"There's a quarnyx battery behind it," Rocket said. "Purplish box, green wires. To get into that watchtower, I definitely need it."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Gamora asked.

Rocket looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, supposably, these bald-bodies find you ladies attractive. So maybe you can work out some sort of trade."

Gamora narrowed her eyes. "You must be joking."

"No," Rocket said. "I really heard they find you attractive."

Marisol scowled at that, shoving him off her shoulder with all the force she could muster.

Rocket grunted as he hit the floor. Climbing back onto the table, he looked back at her, shrugging unapologetically. "Hey, it was just a suggestion!"

The ladies stared down at him, completely unamused.

"What?" Rocket asked. He looked up at Marisol. "You've done it before!"

"When it was my idea!" Marisol snapped.

Quill decided to jump in before Rocket got himself clobbered by the ladies. "Look, it's twenty feet in the air, and it's in the middle of the most heavily guarded part of the prison. It's impossible to get up there without being seen."

Rocket settled back down into a chair, his back turned to the panel. "I got one plan, and that plan requires a frickin' quarnyx battery, so figure it out!" he screamed in Quill's face.

Marisol sighed. Rocket got quite testy whenever people doubted his plans. Which was a little annoying, seeing as how something usually always went wrong.

She was about to point this out, when she realized something had already gone wrong. "Rocket," she said urgently. "Where's Groot?"

Rocket shrugged. "I thought it was your turn to babysit him." He turned back to the other two. "Can we get back to it?" When no one said anything, he said, "Good. Now, this is important. Once the battery is removed, everything is gonna slam into emergency mode."

Marisol's attention was stolen when she heard a small grunt from another table, where a metal plating had just whammed a guy right in the head.

She gasped, spotted Groot reaching up for the panel, pulling the battery out of the wall.

"Rocket!" Marisol tried.

He ignored her and kept explaining things to the others. "Once we have it, we gotta move quickly, so you definitely need to get that last."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Marisol muttered. She watched as Groot yanked the wiring off the battery.

There was a split second in which the others stared at her, confusion written all over their faces.

Then, alarms blared, the prisoners scattering, guards rushing on to the scene immediately.

Rocket sighed. "Or we could just get it first and improvise!" He shot Marisol an annoyed look. "I thought you were watching him!"

"I never said anything about watching him!" Mari snapped back, Rocket jumping onto her shoulder once more. "Beside, you know how hard he is to keep track of! He just walks off when you're talking. I think you bore him."

"First of all, that was uncalled for!" Rocket huffed. "Second of all, how do you lose track of him, he's thirty feet tall!"

"He is not that tall!" Marisol said, rolling her eyes again.

"Enough," Gamora snapped. "I'll get the arm band." She ran off to fulfill her task.

"Leg," Quill said, walking off as well.

Marisol snorted as he went. She raised her hand, a smirk forming on her lips. Rocket grinned as well, slapping her a high five.

Their amusement was short lived, as a group of flying robots hovered towards Groot. Rocket rubbed his face, groaning in irritation.

From the catwalk above, a guard called out to their friend. "Prisoner, drop the device immediately and retreat to your cell, or we will open fire."

Naturally, Groot didn't listen. The vines on his body began growing, stretching outward and reaching for the robots surrounding him. He bellowed, "I. AM. GROOOOT!!" And all hell broke loose.

The robots fired rapidly. Groot smacked one across the room, causing it to erupt into an explosion of sparks.

He head butted another one, sending it flying right into the wall. The other inmates scattered, returning to their cells as instructed.

Marisol made a beeline for Groot, sprinting as fast as she could to avoid being hit by the robots' bullets.

As she ran Rocket fell off her shoulder, ducking and covering his head with his paws he running over to Groot. Marisol skidded to a stop right next to the big guy.

Rocket scurried up Groot's leg and around his waist, coming to a halt on his shoulder.

"You idiot!" He had to shout to be heard over the bullets clashing with the metal flooring around them. "How am I supposed to fight these things without my stuff?"

"Ditto!" Marisol said, shaking her head disapprovingly. She could have, of course, used her powers, but that was always a last resort only.

Groot didn't respond, too preoccupied with swatting at the robots. Marisol yelped, ducking behind Groot as one began firing directly at the trio.

Rocket shoved his head down on Groot's body; Groot lifted his arms, forming a large shield made of burs to cover them.

With a grunt, Groot smacked the thing away from them with the bur shield, Rocket almost falling off his back.

The robot went soaring, slamming into one of the tables. At the other end of the room, one of the guards shouted, "The animal is in control! Fire on my command!"

"Gah!" Marisol yelled, watching as the guards readied their big, bulky guns that would surely kill them. "Groot, when we get out of here, you are so grounded!"

"I am Groot?" Groot said, swatting, still, at the robots as they continued firing.

"Why would that be a pun about you being a tree?" Marisol asked, shaking her head again, ducking to avoid being hit by the robots.

She decided things were looking pretty desperate, so she took a small step forward, rasing her hand. "Now, stand back, I'm gonna try to use my powers on the guards."

Before she could move an inch, Drax the Destroyer charged the guards with guns, bellowing out a huge roar.

He pushed them all to the ground in a matter of seconds. Drax even took the liberty of kicking one of them in their soft spot and smacking another in the face with his own gun.

"Or this could happen," Marisol shrugged. Swinging herself around to assist Drax, she punched a guard in the throat.

Drax jumped up, swinging around, using the neck of one guard as a pole to propel himself, kicking a second guard in the nose and knocking him to the floor. All the while laughing like a complete loon. Man, that guy was cool.

Marisol grinned, charging at another guard, sending a roundhouse kick to his face before turning and snapping another guard's arm.

The guard let out an eardrum shattering cry as she shoved him back into one of his co workers, both of them stumbling to the floor.

One guard ran up to Drax, smacking him in the face. Only the slap didn't really do much of anything; so Drax head butted the poor bastard, knocking him out cold.

Swiftly, he turned, grabbing hold of another guard, and, with a psychotic scream, he lifted him into the air, slamming him down again roughly.

Picking up the last guard's weapon, Drax turned his attention to the trio. "Creepy little beast!" he called out, though Marisol wasn't sure which of them he was referring to.

He tossed the gun he'd stolen without further warning, and Rocket caught it with ease.

Rocket cocked the gun, a huge smirk forming on his face. "Oh, yeah."

Screaming at the top of his lungs as Groot turned in a circle, Rocket fired his new weapon rapidly.

Marisol and Drax hit the deck to avoid being shot. The guards and their little robo toys weren't so lucky. One by one, they all fell, the robots exploding into a million pieces.

Above them, Gamora was sprinting along the catwalk; as she ran she throat punched a guard, knocking another down by jumping in the air, kicking him in the chest with both feet before landing in a crouched position.

Marisol grinned at that. She may not have cared much for the green skinned woman, but she had to hand it to her. Gamora was quite the badass.

Three more guards rounded the corner. Two of them had guns, one of which fired a laser at her, while the other held a shield.

Gamora easily dodged the laser, charging forward and ripping the thing out of the man's hand before knocking the man with the shield down with another high waisted kick.

She took one of the guards, by the arm, aiming his own nightstick at his throat. They exchanged a few words, but Marisol couldn't hear over Rocket's rapid fire and screams. She guessed Gamora was just demanding he hand over his wrist band.

On the other end of the catwalk, Marisol saw Quill sprinting away from one cell, a metal leg in his hand. Briefly, he was stopped by a guard; but Starlord whacked him with the leg, knocking the bastard out cold.

A lone robot somehow escaped Rocket's wrath, making its way over to Quill. Marisol jumped to her feet, running for the stairs, ducking to avoid taking any bullets.

"Primito!" She yelled, getting stopped by five guards, blocking her path to him.

Fortunately, Quill had heard her warning call. He quickly dropped the prosthetic leg, opting to pick up the gun of the guard he'd just knocked out instead.

Marisol grabbed the first guard's arm, throwing him into the second one; but the third and forth grabbed her arms.

She threw her head back, slamming it into the nose of the fifth guard, causing him to stumble back.

Quill fired the gun, exploding the robot that had been about to attack him. Then, he turned, firing down at the guards attacking Mari.

She huffed, throwing the guards off of her before meeting her cousin halfway up the stairs, as he was picking the leg up again. "I had that," Marisol hissed, pushing her way past him.

"You're welcome," Quill mumbled sarcastically. He followed after her quickly.

"Rocket!" Gamora yelled from across the way, having got the wrist device from the guard.

Rocket dropped his gun as he ran out of bullets. He looked up at Gamora's shout, just in time to see her tossing the security band to him; he reached his paw out, snatching it from the air.

Rocket looked down at Groot, but he shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, even over the flying bullets of the remaining guards. "Move for the watchtower!"

Gamora crouched down, sprinting across the catwalk and leaping to the watchtower's platform.

Groot marched over to the same platform, albeit still on the ground level; he stretched his arms up to it, allowing Rocket to scurry up to the platform with Gamora.

Marisol and Peter met them along the way. The two cousins began climbing as well, Peter going first. He paused when another robot flew into the room, coming for the cousins, only for Drax the Destroyer to snatch it from the air and rip it in half with his bare hands.

He stared up at Quill, his eyes wild. "You! Man who has lain with an A'askavariian!"

Peter sighed, rolling his head around with annoyance. "That was one time, man…" he mumbled.

"Yeah, whatever you say, Primito," Marisol said. She pushed at his foot a little. "Now, get climbing."

He started climbing again, and as she followed, Drax began climbing up after her. Mari glanced down. "Huh, okay. I guess he's just gonna come with us. Okay."

When the three of them made it onto the platform with Gamora and Rocket, Marisol turned to help pull Groot up as well. Rocket opened the door with the device Gamora had pulled off the guard.

There was a lone guard inside the watchtower, frantically calling for backup, when they stepped inside. Turning to face the group of six, the color drained from his face.

He held up his hands in surrender. Gamora stepped forward, pushing him out of his seat; Groot slinked his arms around everyone, grabbing the guard and tossing him across the platform like a ragdoll. Rocket closed the door behind them once everyone was inside.

Quill, Rocket, and Groot gathered at the console at the front of the room, while Marisol hung back with Gamora and Drax.

Gamora glanced at Drax, a scowl forming on her face. Drax glared back at her, getting in her face. "Spare me your foul gaze, woman!"

Gamora ignored him, turning instead to Marisol and Quill. "Why is this one here?"

Marisol shrugged. "He followed us up. Guess he wanted to escape too."

"That and we promised him he could stay by your side until he kills your boss," Peter added.

Marisol shot him a look. "When the hell did you fools promise him that?"

"Just this morning actually," Rocket said, setting to work at the console. "Before we all met up."

"Ah," Marisol nodded. "And here I thought the homicidal maniac was helping us out of the goodness of his heart." She glanced at Drax. "That's a term of endearment by the way."

Quill squinted at her. "In what way is that a term of endearment?"

Mari shrugged. "It is when I use it."

"Whatever." He turned back to Gamora. "I always keep my promises when they're to muscle-bound whack jobs who'll kill me if I don't."

"How noble," Mari commented. She pointed at him. "And why do you get to call him a whack job?"

"Because I can!" Quill reasoned lamely. He flopped the metal leg down in front of Rocket. "Anyway, here you go."

Rocket hardly spared him a glance. "Oh, I was just kidding about the leg."

"What?" Quill shouted. Marisol and Rocket broke into a fit of laughter at that, Mari having to use the wall to support herself as she almost fell over.

"I thought it'd be funny," Rocket chuckled.

"You were right," Mari giggled.

"Was it funny?" Rocket asked, glancing a Quill, still giggling himself. "Oh, wait! What did he look like hopping around?"

Mari snickered, sitting up right. "I bet he looked like a total dweeb."

"Right?" Rocket said, belting out another stark raving mad laugh.

No one else shared their amusement, least of all Quill. Starlord looked between the pair of them, extremely annoyed. "I had to transfer him thirty-thousand units!"

Marisol patted his shoulder with fake sympathy. "That's what you get for being a gullible loser, Primito." Rocket snickered into his paw, his body shaking up and down a little.

The fun was ruined shortly, when another robot flew in from the next room, zooming up to the watchtower window, firing upon it, trying to shoot it open. The six occupants jumped slightly at the sudden noise.

"How are we going to leave?" Drax demanded, bringing everyone back to business.

"Well he has a plan," Quill nodded at Rocket, shielding his eyes from the bright sparks on the window where the robot fired. "Or is that another thing you made up?"

Ignoring the passive aggressive attitude, Rocket sprang into action, frantically fiddling with the console. "I have a plan! I have a plan!"

"Cease your yammering," Drax said, growing irritated at everyone's bickering, "and relieve us from this irksome confinement."

"Yeah," Quill said, as the robot whirled away, circling around to find a better angle. "I'll have to agree with the walking thesaurus on that one."

Drax glared at him. "Do not ever call me a thesaurus."

Groot leaned down to Mari. "I am Groot." Marisol put her hand over her mouth in a failed attempt to cover her snickers.

Gamora glanced at them, frowning with confusion. "What did he say?"

Mari looked at her, still sort of laughing as she translated. "He said: so homicidal maniac and whack job are fine, but thesaurus is offensive?"

Gamora nodded slowly, not really seeing what was so funny about that comment.

She turned back to where Peter was trying to explain his statement to Drax. "It's just a metaphor, dude!"

"His people are completely literal. Metaphors are gonna go over his head," Rocket called over his shoulder, pressing buttons on the console at alarming speeds.

Drax, clearly not recognizing that that was also a metaphor of sorts, said, "Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it."

Gamora sighed, looking directly in front of her, a dazed look washing over her face. "I'm gonna die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy," she muttered to herself.

Down below, a group of guards marched into the yard room, shields and rocket launchers at the ready. They gathered in a formation at the center of the room, aiming their weapons up at the six.

"Those are some big guns," Quill commented.

The watchtower shook, as they blasted a shot towards them. Gamora looked at Rocket urgently. "Rodent, we are ready for your plan!"

"Hold on!" Rocket hissed. He scurried over the console, pressing buttons and messing with the wires.

"Yeah, not much time left for that, Cohete!" Mari snapped, losing her footing as the guards fired another shot. She held onto Groot for support. "You better hurry it up!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm working on it, shut up!" Rocket snipped.

"I'm going to keep them occupied," Marisol said, her eyes flashing violet.

She took a step forward, planning to use her powers to take control of the guards' minds. Maybe make them fight each other instead.

But Rocket jumped up, shoving her back and making her lose her hold on her powers. "No, no, no! You don't need to do that! I got it covered. You all just stay back!"

Marisol grumbled under her breath and slumped against the wall. He never let her use her powers even though it would be much easier and faster.

The excuse was always the same too. "You'll over exert yourself and then we'll have to carry you and look stupid!" It was really annoying.

Drax glanced over Rocket's tiny form, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I recognize this animal. We'd roast them over a flame pit as children. Their flesh is quite delicious."

"That's gross," Marisol said. She shuddered at the idea of someone trying to eat her friend or even something that looked like him.

"I am Groot," Groot agreed with a nod.

"SHUT UP!" Rocket shouted. He huffed when everyone snapped their mouths shut. "Not helping!"

The next blast cracked the windows. Marisol could hear the warden down below, bellowing out orders for the guards to ready another shot. "You sure I can't use my powers, Cohete?"

Rocket ignored her as he struggled with the wires, the others standing tense behind him as the warden began counting down for the next blast.

When he reached one, Rocket attached two wires together; suddenly every guard, table, and gun down below started floating in mid air.

The only things that stayed put were the things nailed to the ground, save for the small group in the watchtower.

Gamora leaned forward, looking impressed. "You turned off the artificial gravity everywhere but here."

Marisol grinned. "Nice one, Cohete!" Even if she was slightly annoyed at him for not letting her use her powers on the guards, she had to admit that was pretty bad ass.

"I told you I had a plan," Rocket said smugly. He fiddled with the console some more, the rest of the robots attaching themselves to the bottom of the watchtower and lifting it into the air.

The watchtower soared through the air, zipping down through the halls, smacking into a guard or two.

They flew through the next two doorways, skidding against the walls, sparks grinding and spitting out.

Marisol grit her teeth at the noise, stumbling a bit as the watchtower shook. They skidded to a halt, the tower slamming to the floor, as the robots' jets ran out.

Rocket quickly shut the door behind them, assuring the guards wouldn't follow. Or at least it would slow them down anyway.

Quill nodded slowly, as things momentarily settled down. "Alright, that was a pretty good plan."

"Huh?" Rocket said, looking taken aback by the compliment.

Marisol glanced out the window, grinning as soon as she realized where they were. "We're in impound. Let's go get our stuff!"

Peter kicked the glass out of the window, and everyone climbed out, scattering to hunt down their belongings.

Marisol and Rocket gathered their weapons, stuffing them into duffle bags. Gamora grabbed everyone's clothes, putting them in her own bag so they could all change later.

Marisol did take the time to change into her boots, though. The prison shoes were treacherous.

And she did place the ear piece Rocket had stolen for her in her earlobe. (It had the ability to transform into a helmet. She doubted she'd need it, but she felt a bit naked without it.) Then, she hooked her hatches and gadgets on the hem of her pants.

Rocket hissed as he spotted the state his clothing was in, shaking his head. "They crumbled my pants up into a ball!" he complained. "That's rude! They folded yours!" He gestured at everyone else's clothes.

Marisol rolled her eyes at him but otherwise ignored him. "Okay, so how are we actually, you know, leaving the Klyn?"

"I have a ship," Starlord said. He ran over to the window, pointing to a ship that was parked across the way. Marisol vaguely recalled seeing it as they were being brought in.

"Yeah, there it is." He turned back to the others. "Get my ship. It's the Milano, the orange and blue one in the corner."

Marisol raised an eyebrow at him, as she followed his finger to the ship he was indicating. "In that rust bucket? I think we'd have better chances if we just walked."

"Hey! That ship has gotten me through a lot of close calls!" Starlord insisted. "Give it a chance!"

"Whatever." She shrugged, as he finished gathering his junk.

Gamora walked over to him impatiently when he'd taken a minute too long. "The Orb's there. Let's go!"

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, frantically searching through the stuff the guards had taken.

"What?" Gamora snapped.

"That bastard didn't put it back!" Peter said.

"Put what back?" Gamora asked.

"Here," Peter said, passing her his stuff. "Get them to the ship. I'll be right back."

Gamora and Marisol exchanged annoyed looks. "How are you going to possibly --" Gamora started.

"Just keep the Milano close by," Quill said. "Go. Go!" He took off down the hall.

Gamora and Marisol exchanged another look, the latter letting out a loud sigh of annoyance. "I'll go make sure he doesn't get himself killed, you go get the ship, Caballero blanco." Before Gamora could protest she ran after her cousin.

She found him sneaking around the halls, making a bit too much noise as he went along.

Marisol silently moved behind him, roughly grabbing his shoulder and turning him around.

He jumped. She glared at him. "What are you doing, Primito?"

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" he retorted. "Your supposed to be helping Gamora get everyone to the ship!"

"Rocket would leave you behind if you took too long," Marisol told him. "But he won't leave me. So, what the hell are you doing?"

Peter sighed; his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. I'm getting my walkman back from that guard."

Marisol narrowed her eyes at him. She smacked his arm, beating him senseless as he flinched back, hissing in pain. "Ow! Ow! Hey!"

"Are you completely stupid?!" Marisol whisper-shouted. "You could get us all caught!"

Peter stared at her softly. He shrugged, like his next words justified everything. "It's the one from my mom."

Marisol threw her hands out, making a face at him. "So what?"

Peter scoffed. "So, what? What do you mean so what? It has sentimental value! You know what that's like. You're that way with your necklace."

Marisol shook her head. "Not any more I'm not," she said. "I lost it long ago, and it taught me to never get too attached to things that can be taken away."

"That's a bunch of croc," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "That necklace was everything to you once upon a time. It was the only thing you had left of your mom, and this walkman is the only thing I have left of mine!"

"Being sentimental is what gets you killed," Marisol defended her opinion. "It's better, safer, not to get attached to things. Or people for that matter. They'll all just leave you high and dry in the end and things always fade away over time, so they're pointless anyways."

Peter gave a short laugh of disbelief, shaking his head. "So, you don't get sentimental about valuables or get attached to people, but you can get attached to a rat and a tree? Yeah, that makes a whole lot of sense, Queen Bee!"

She rolled her eyes at the new nickname. "Whatever. If you insist on risking our lives for some junk then let's just get it already and get out of here."

"Yeah, fine," Peter agreed.

Simultaneously, the cousins pressed their hands to their ear pieces, helmets forming over each of their faces.

They were similar in style, both having dark black metal and a gas mask pointing downwards from the mouth. Though, his bore glowing red eyes, while hers had an electric purple glow.

Peter looked his cousin up at down for a brief. "I know you just said you aren't sentimental, but damn that's a nice mask."

"Thanks," Mari said. "Yours too."

"Seriously, though, we're gonna have a lengthy conversation about it when we get out of here."

"If you say so."

The two cousins sauntered through the hallways, guards charging towards them just to get their asses handed to them.

Starlord fired a bolt of electricity at a pair of them, causing them to wither in pain on the floor; he pushed a third to the ground, kicking him in the groin.

Chimera took notice of a fourth guard charging towards them, gun at the ready. She lazily raised her hand, yawning a bit dramatically, using her abilities to show him his worst nightmare.

(Rocket wasn't there too stop her from using them now.) Within seconds he was on the floor, screaming until his face turned red.

Starlord fired on the last of the guards, sending him flying across the room.

When he complained about his neck, Chimera thrust her hand at him, sending a purple wave of energy towards him and knocking him out.

"Nice," Starlord commented. Chimera nodded in return.

As the two continued forward, he took the Orb from his pocket, tossing it into the air and catching it smoothly.

She glanced at him. "Further insurance that they don't leave us?"

"Yup," he confirmed.

"Clever."

They found the blue guard from earlier, exactly where they'd met him before.

He was still listening to Peter's walkman, as if he hadn't moved the entire time they'd been in the prison.

Marisol wondered how he could be so oblivious. Did he not realize there was a riot going on? The guards here really were useless...

Peter smacked him in the face without a second thought, snatching the head set and tape recorder as the man fell.

"Great, you got your junk," Mari said as he stuffed it in his pocket. "Now let's go!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" Peter grumbled. He stepped out of the room and walked over to the nearest window. Before opening it, he glanced back at Marisol. "Wait do you have jets or…?"

In response, Mari clicked her heels together, activating the jets in her boots. She was really glad she'd decided to get her helmet and boots now.

Quill nodded, probably grinning under his own mask. "Sweet." With that, he opened the window and the two cousins jumped into the cold vacuum of space.

Rocket had parked the ship just outside the Klyn base. It could have been her imagination mixed with her own irritation, but Marisol thought if the ship was glaring at them with impatience, as they sky rocketed towards it.

Thanks to their jets, they reached the ship in a matter of seconds. Marisol stepped inside, Gamora and Drax opening the round hatch and helping her inside before doing the same with Quill. Rocket took off as soon as they were on board, quickly leaving the prison behind them.

"These ones show spirit," Drax commented. As the cousins let their masks drop, revealing their faces again, he glanced between them. "You shall make keen allies in the battle against Ronan. Companions, what were you retrieving?"

Peter passed him the walkman as he stepped past, moving towards the front of the ship to take the controls from Rocket. Drax glanced over the tape recorder, quickly changing his tune. "You're imbeciles."

"Hey!" Marisol protested. "I was just trying to make sure he didn't get himself killed! Rocket, Groot, and I need him alive if Gamora flakes out on us." She folded her arms, flopping into a chair.

Peter rolled his eyes at her, but he didn't say anything as he took a seat at the front of the ship.

Gamora sighed, not even bothering to defend herself against Mari's rude remark. She simply followed her example, taking a seat next to Peter and Groot. Drax moved to sit in a chair on the other side of Mari.

Rocket huffed from his own chair. "Well, consider your moronic asses lucky. Another five minutes and I would have left you both!"

Groot shook his head, calling his bluff with a cry of, "I am Groot."

Rocket spun around, raising his paws, hostile. "I was to gonna!"

"I am Groot," Groot called him out again.

"Yes, I was." Rocket turned to Drax and Gamora. "Did I or did I not say I'd leave them if they didn't hurry up?" He turned back to Groot before they could respond. "Who's side are you on, anyways?!"

"Mine of course," Marisol answered for him. She sat back in her chair, propping a leg up and twirling a strand of her hair in her fingers. "I'm the one who cooks all the meals, after all." She gave Rocket a pointed look.

Rocket waved the thought away quickly. "So, what? I'm the one who gets us all the units!"

"And I'm the one who makes sure you two behave yourselves!" Marisol argued.

Rocket laughed in protested. "Oh, you think you're the one who's in charge of this group?" He stood up in his chair, folding his arms with a huff.

"Please," Mari said, sitting up again, staring back at him with an intense case. "If it weren't for me you and Groot would just be running around the galaxy wrecking havoc at any old place you see. I'm practically your mother, keeping the both of you out of trouble."

Rocket scoffed. "Whatever. If anyone's the parent in this thing it's obviously me. I'm always the one who's keeping you two idiots from doing something stupid."

Drax glanced at Groot as Rocket and Marisol kept arguing. "Do they squabble like this often?"

Groot looked back at him, simply saying, "I am Groot."

Gamora tilted her head to the side, watching as the rodent and Terrain girl kept on bickering. "I think we should take that as a yes."


	6. The Stone in the Orb

**Okay, peeps. So, this is where I get to slow the story down a wee bit. So, we're gonna have quite a few chapters before they get to Knowhere I think.**

**Just some extra adventures I've thought up for the gang and maybe some flash back chapters. We'll see.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

Peter put the Milano on autopilot, getting up to stretch his legs. First, he went to his quarters to change out of that prison jumpsuit, opting for the Ravagers' signature red leather jacket over a grey t-shirt, jeans, and his boots.

The others had gone quiet a while ago, so next he decided to go check up on them, make sure they weren't getting into too much trouble.

It was a good thing too, because when he found Rocket the little rodent was sat on the floor, humming a jaunty tune as he fiddled with his stuff.

Peter ran towards him, swiping his arm across the air, signaling for him to knock it off.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Yo, Ranger Rick! What are you doing? You can't take apart my ship without asking me!" He reached out for the parts he'd stolen. "What is this?"

"Don't touch that," Rocket warned without looking up. "It's a bomb."

"A bomb?!" Peter asked incredulously.

"Yup."

"And you leave it lying around?!"

"I was gonna put it in a box." Rocket shrugged, reaching for some more parts to yank out of the wall of the ship.

Peter held his arms out, his eyes widening, silently saying: _what the hell is wrong with you?_ Out loud, he said, "What's a box gonna do?"

Marisol looked up at Peter and Rocket's arguing. She was sitting with her back against Groot's feet, laying her head on her knees and trying to desperately to stay awake.

Groot was sitting in the chair above her next to Drax. Gamora was perched against the wall across from her.

They'd been drifting through space for a few hours, and since everything had settled down Marisol's stamina was giving way.

The effects of using her powers, even as little an amount as she had used them, in the last thirty-six hours was beginning to kick in; and she was growing very tired very quickly.

But every time she closed her eyes, Marisol could see the images from her nightmare returning. All those strangers.

Those armies going to war. Ronan bringing them all to their knees. And Groot...

Marisol buried her head deeper into herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Groot using the last of his energy to save the rest of them.

There was no way that was going to happen. She wouldn't let it! Marisol only had two friends in the entire galaxy, and she'd be damned if she stood by and let them get hurt! Only she had no idea how to stop it.

She wasn't even sure if it could be stopped. Out of everything Marisol could manage with her powers, her dreams made the least sense to her.

They were chaotic, uncontrollable. Half the time Marisol didn't even know where to begin with figuring out what they meant.

The dreams weren't always so straight forward. Sometimes they were symbolic.

If she dreamt of a raven, it might mean that someone was about to die...or it could also just mean that she'd see a raven at some point in the near future. (Not very likely, as raven's were strictly Terran creatures, but the point still stood.)

She'd have to pick and choose which interpretation of any one dream meant; and even if she did figure out what her dreams were trying to tell her, there wasn't usually much of anything she could do about it.

The dreams, assuming the visions were literal and not symbolic, weren't predictions. They weren't potential futures.

They were events as they would happen. Prophecies destined to come true.

Besides, by the time she'd figured it out, it'd be too late anyways. At least, that's what she had always assumed.

Most days Marisol didn't bother deciphering them. (That puzzle was far too complex, even for her.)

She wouldn't even attempt 'fixing' or stopping any crappy future events she seen, because it just didn't seem worth the effort. (She wasn't anything close to a hero, after all.)

But now that things had gotten a little more personal, Marisol couldn't help thinking it was a punishment for being a huge bitch all these years.

Assuming there were any gods out there in the vast universe actually paying attention to her sorry excuse for a life, Marisol guessed they must have been testing her. Or maybe it was just some cruel joke.

_Oh, so you hate heroes, huh? Well, here's your friend in mortal danger! Save him and be an annoying hero or let him die and be a bad friend! Hahaha!_

Marisol scowled to herself at the thought of godly beings laughing at her. What a bunch of douchebags.

She started nodding off, only to immediately receive a new vision - the massive hand of Thanos the mad Titan wrapped in that golden gauntlet.

The gauntlet was now covered in six multicolored gems, sparkling menacingly; with a swift motion, Thanos snapped, the noise seemingly echoing much louder than it should have.

Marisol jumped, her eyes snapping open again as she sat straight up. Her heart pounded in her chest; it felt as though her insides had melted into butter. There was a bitter taste left in her mouth.

She wasn't sure what it was about that snap that made her feel so uneasy. There was nothing remotely intimidating about that gesture.

Marisol figured it mustn't have been the snap itself but the person snapping. But that wasn't exactly a quake in your boots sort of movement, even if the guy doing it was completely insane.

She supposed it could have been one of those annoying symbolic things. But then, what did the snap symbolize?

Marisol's mind slowly turned to her previous dream. The war. The destruction. She was sure it must have been connected somehow. She just wasn't sure how yet.

Sighing, Marisol shook her head, trying to clear her mind. It didn't really matter now anyways.

She wasn't a hero. She didn't fight in wars or save lives. If the dreams were being literal, then it could be someone else's problem.

She didn't care about any of it or any of those strangers she'd dreamt about. The only ones she'd ever actually cared about were Rocket and Groot.

At the thought of Groot, Marisol remembered the image she'd had of him. Falling through the sky, using the last of his strength to help the others... His last words. We are Groot.

_Well, at least he'll learn another word before he kicks the bucket_, Marisol thought glumly.

Groot leaned down from his seat above her. He must have noticed her small jerk as she'd woken, because he quietly asked her if she was okay. "I am Groot?"

Mari glanced up at him, giving him a thumbs up. "Peachy." But looking at him left her heart throbbing uncomfortably so she returned her gaze to the wall in front of her.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes tiredly, as Rocket and Quill started up again.

Rocket pulled a drawer open. He pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in colorful wrapping paper. "What about this one?"

Marisol blinked. For a moment, she'd forgotten what Rocket and her cousin had been talking about. (Actually, she was so tired and groggy that Groot had to remind her they'd been arguing about the bomb Rocket had made, but Marisol pretended she'd remembered on her own.)

Peter's eyes widened as he recognized the box immediately. He'd told Marisol that the only thing he'd had left from his mother was the walkman. That wasn't true.

In actuality, he had two things left: the walkman and the present she'd given him the night she'd died, the night he and Mari had been abducted by Yondu.

He had yet to open it, and he never took it out of that drawer, lest it get lost or ruined.

"No! Whoa, hey!" He yanked the present from the raccoon's paws, stuffing it back inside the drawer and pushing it closed with his foot. "Leave it alone!"

"Why?" Rocket asked, turning to face him. "What is it?"

"Shut up!" Peter snapped.

"Hey!" Rocket scoffed, shrugging his shoulders like he thought Peter's attitude was completely unjustified.

Peter felt a little bad about it but not enough to apologize. Besides, Marisol glanced up tiredly, only grating on his nerves further when she told Rocket, "It's from his ma. She gave it to him before she died."

"Aw, how sweet and adorable," Rocket cooed teasingly, sarcasm dripping from his teeth.

Peter rolled his eyes at the two of them, quickly moving on before he got another lecture about how being sentimental was for losers.

He nodded at some other thing Rocket had made. "What's that?"

"That's for if things get really hardcore," Rocket told him. He smirked deviously. "Or if you want to blow up moons."

"No one's blowing up moons," Gamora said sternly from where she was leaning against the wall.

"You just wanna suck the joy out of everything," Rocket grumbled.

"You're no fun," Mari sighed in the same instance.

Peter walked to the red holographic space map at the center of the room.

He moved his finger along the map, speaking to Gamora. "So, listen, I'm gonna need your buyer's coordinates."

Gomora looked up at him, speaking softly. "We're headed in the right direction. For now."

Peter turned to face her, sighing a little. "If we're gonna work together, you might try trusting me a little bit."

Gamora shot him a smug look, holding up the Orb. "And how much do you trust me?"

He took the Orb from her, holding it up in front of her face. "I'd trust you a lot more, if you told me what this was. Because I'm guessing it's some kind of weapon."

Peter turned and placed it at the center of the table, only for Drax to stand up and pick thing up again.

"I don't know what it is." Gamora shifted her eyes to the floor before meeting Peter's gaze.

The movement was quick, and one might have missed it completely if they hadn't been paying attention; but Marisol had gotten good at reading people and looking for the subtle signs most people missed.

She was clearly lying. It was evidenced by the way she rapped her fingers on the surface of the table. The way she stood so precisely - back completely straight, head held high.

Marisol wasn't sure why she was lying though. From the way the other woman was eyeing the Orb, as if it were one of Rocket's explosives, it would seem she was afraid of it.

But what could be so dangerous that it had one of the galaxy's most fierce assassins trembling where she stood? Well, Marisol supposed, that was another puzzle to solve.

"If it is a weapon," Drax said, "we should use it against Ronan."

Gamora glared over at him, leaning against the table. Her whole demeanor changed as the Destroyer plucked the Orb from the table.

Her shoulders tensed, her eyes widening to the size of golf balls. "Put it down, you fool, before you destroy us all!"

(When Marisol asked later, Gamora denied her sentence being a pun about Drax's name, but she got the feeling that was a lie too.)

Drax glared back at her. "Or just you, murderous!"

Gamora stomped over to him, getting in his face. "I let you live once, princess!"

Marisol scoffed. She seemed to remember things being the other way around, but she was much too tired to point this out to the assassin.

Instead, she let out a quiet yawn, hoping to finally see Drax and Gamora punch each other's brains out.

Drax stepped closer to her, narrowing his eyes, a deep growl emitting from his throat. "I am not a princess!"

"Hey!" Peter shouted, bringing everyone's attention to himself.

Gamora and Drax stepped away from each other, each looking down awkwardly.

Marisol sighed. Her cousin was two for two on interrupting the fun. She jumped up, stealing Drax's seat next to Groot.

Marisol pouted at her cousin, laying her head back on the headrest. "Why'd you break them up, chico estrella? I wanted to see them claw each others' eyes out."

Rocket looked up from where he was probably making some more explosives. "Me too! Kill him! Murder her!" he egged on. "Death! Death! Death!"

Peter shook his head at his cousin, turning to address everyone. "Nobody is killin' anybody on my ship!" he told them sternly. "We're stuck together until we get the money."

Drax huffed, tossing the Orb back to Peter. "I have no interest in money." He stepped around Quill, leaving the room.

"Great," Peter mumbled, putting the Orb back on the table again. "That means more money for the four of us." Groot made a grunting noise, making Peter acknowledge his mistake. "Five of us," he corrected with another sigh. "Partners."

Gamora looked at him, unamused. Monotonously, she said, "We had an agreement, but I would never be partners with the likes of you."

Marisol nodded in agreement, sitting up. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she forced her words out. "Yup, and I already have two partners. I don't need a third or a fourth."

Peter scoffed, throwing his hands up a little. He couldn't believe their attitudes. After everything they've been through in the last few hours?

"I'll tell my buyer we're on our way," Gamora said. She made like she was going to walk away before turning back to him, a disgusted frown on her face. "And, Quill, your ship is filthy."

Marisol caught him staring at Gamora's ass when she turned away. He didn't stop when she started climbing the ladder to the ship's next level either.

Smirking, Quill said, "Oh, she has no idea. If I had a black light, this would look like a Jackson Pollock painting."

Marisol rolled her eyes. It was disgusting how clear it was he wanted to sleep with her.

It was even more horrendous to think that the two of them were just one shag away from waltzing down the isle; Marisol found herself trying not to think about the scene in her dream where Peter was aiming a blaster at Gamora as she proclaimed her love to him.

She shrugged the memory of the dream away. "Honestly," she sighed. "If you're that thirsty, Primito, just get a drink already."

Peter rolled his eyes at her, not even dignifying her comment with a response. Rocket, however, stood up from his self made bombs, shaking his head slowly at the cousins. "You guys got issues."

* * *

After a quick shower (The Milano's faucet was rusty, but at least it was in better condition that the Klyn's ) Marisol changed into a pair of black leather pants and a dark purple crop top under her black jacket.

She felt a little refreshed and a bit of her stamina had returned, but she found herself alone in the halls, which could have ended badly.

Marisol didn't handle being alone very well. She preferred being in the crowds, interacting with people even if they were totally stupid.

Fortunately, she wasn't alone for very long before she found Gamora staring wistfully out the window.

Marisol wasn't sure what was so fascinating about a bunch of burning rocks and gas giants, but she decided not to make fun of her for it. (This time.)

Marisol approached the other woman, hoping her pace wasn't too brisk. She still didn't like Gamora much, but talking to her would be better than being stuck alone.

Gamora raised her brow at her as she came to a stop next to her, leaning against the window pan. "Can I help you?"

Marisol wasn't sure what to say, so she brought up the first thing that had come to her mind. "What's really in that orb?"

When Gamora opened her mouth she held up a finger. "And before you give me any of that 'I don't know' crap, you should know I'm very good at reading people. I'll know if you're lying."

Gamora nodded slowly. She looked out the window, staring blankly at the stars as they passed them by. "It's something dangerous."

"I gathered. But what is it?" Marisol stared at her through squinted eyes. She could already tell the information wasn't going to be easy to squeeze out of her.

Gamora tried very hard not to meet the other woman's eyes. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she was biting her lip with unease.

A kinder person might have let up once they'd taken note of her discomfort; but Marisol had never been known for being nice.

"What is it?" Marisol pressed. "What could possibly be so dangerous it could scare the Great Assassin Gamora?"

Her words were probably laced with more sarcasm than necessary, but she didn't really care all that much.

Gamora shifted under her gaze, turning her head away from her and closing her eyes.

Marisol stood upright, folding her own arms over herself. "Well? What is it? Because if we're on a ship with something dangerous, I think I deserve to know."

Gamora whirled around at this, looking offended. "I'm not the only one who's brought dangerous weapons on to this ship! That rodent of yours was making explosives, and you didn't seem to care much about that."

Marisol glared back at her. "He's not a rodent. He's Rocket. And he tells me what his weapons are, so I don't have to worry."

Gamora groaned. She started to walk off, but Marisol just followed her. She wasn't going to leave her alone until she got what she wanted.

When she realized this, Gamora rolled her eyes and stopped walking again, turning on her heels to glare back at Marisol. "What happened to staying out of each others business?"

Marisol shrugged. "Seems our business is over lapping at the moment."

Gamora scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You don't need to know what's in the orb in order to sell it!"

Marisol squinted at her. "That's debatable. If I don't know what it is how do I know I can't get more money for it?"

"Didn't Quill already tell you it was a rock?" Gamora sighed.

Marisol briefly recalled the stones she'd seen in her dream. "Yes, but I don't understand how a rock can be so dangerous that it causes you to practically quake in your boots. Or lie about not knowing what it is!"

Gamora's gaze fell to the dusty flooring of the Milano. She wrapped her arms around herself again, looking a little like Groot when Marisol and Rocket were scolding him for his bad attitude.

Marisol rolled her eyes, spinning around and marching down the hallway. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just go grab it and see what it does for myself."

"Wait!" She had only gotten a few feet away when Gamora leapt forward, grabbing her arm.

Marisol swung around, ready to deck her, but she let go as soon as Mari had stopped walking.

Gamora sighed, looking away again. She picked at her fingernails, speaking so softly that Marisol almost missed what she was saying. "It's an Infinity Stone..."

Marisol raised an eyebrow at that. She was sure Gamora was just making it up, having never heard of such a thing before; but when she searched her face she found no signs of deceit.

"I...don't know which one," Gamora said, still not really looking at the other woman. "But I'm guessing the power stone."

"What's an Infinity Stone?" Marisol asked.

Gamora sighed once again. She turned away so Marisol couldn't see her face, but she still spoke loud enough for her to hear.

"They're what Thanos has been after all this time. There's six of them in total, but this is the first we've found. I was going to sell it, because if Thanos gets a hold of all six stones, he will be able to destroy the galaxy like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Marisol blanched at the sound, remembering the echo of the snap she'd heard in her dream earlier; the destruction from her first dream came to mind as well.

Xander being reduced to ash. That still un-named place going up in flames as Thanos held his daughter captive and Starlord trained his weapon on her.

"...Sounds intense," Marisol managed.

Gamora nodded slowly, her back still turned. Marisol thought of the destruction in her dreams - the purple cloud washing over everything in its path and that blue blob plowing over everyone who wasn't fast enough to get out of its way.

She shoved the images back down, focusing on getting the information she wanted and solving the puzzle. "What do they do? These Infinity Stones?"

Gamora turned to face her again, making a face. "I just told you -"

"I meant what do they do individually?"

Gamora eyed her uneasily, and Marisol sighed, rolling her head around in annoyance. It was clear she wasn't going to get a straight answer out of the other woman unless she forced it from her lips herself.

Marisol folded her arms in front of her, feeling like she had already preformed the motion a million times since she had met the green skinned woman. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

"It's...complicated. The Collector will be able to explain it better than I can," Gamora said at last. Then, she turned again, leaving Marisol alone once more.

Marisol chased after her hurriedly, much to the other woman's vexation. "The Collector, hm?" Mari mused. "That's what your buyer is called?"

"Yes," Gamora sighed.

As they turned down a hall to the left, she eyed the dust building up on the window panes, scowling with distaste.

Marisol couldn't blame her. Judging from the random junk piled along the walls, her cousin rarely made an effort to maintain the place.

Belatedly, she tried to recall if he'd been that way when they were kids. She found that she couldn't really remember, despite her neareidetic memory.

It had been far too long since Peter Quill had crossed her mind, much less the state of his childhood bedroom.

Hell, she barely remembered what the town they'd come from was called. (Though, in all fairness, she had spent a great deal of time trying to forget it all.)

Marisol shoved the vile thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. Turning her attention back to Gamora, she asked, "How much longer until we get there?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Gamora fired back smoothly.

She maneuvered around a stack of crates, Marisol holding her nose at the rank smell emitting from them as she followed right behind her.(She didn't even want to think about solving the mystery of what was inside if it smelled that bad.)

"I'm bored," Mari told her.

"Well, is it necessary to pester me with them?"

"Why does it bother you?"

Gamora glanced back at her, eyeing the Terran woman suspiciously. It seemed she picked up on the fact that her question was a trap; still, she found herself answering anyways, "Yes. A bit."

"Then, yeah. It's necessary," Marisol said.

Gamora rolled her eyes. She whirled around, preparing to make another attempt at leaving Marisol in the dust; but before she could move anywhere, the duo heard shouting coming from one of the rooms to their left.

Marisol vaguely recalled her cousin saying the wing they were currently in was where all the sleeping quarters were located when he'd been giving them the tour earlier; this was further affirmed when she shifted her gaze to the doorway.

The room wasn't all that spacious, just a small square area large enough to squeeze in - what Terrans called - a king sized bed.

Marisol assumed from all the vines that had attached themselves to the walls that Groot had claimed this room for himself.

The tree man himself, along with the pilot of the Milano, were stood at the center of the room next to the bed.

They had set out a plethora of random items, plates from the Milano's kitchen mostly; and Groot was shooting dangerously sharp burrs from his arms, Peter tossing their makeshift targets in the air for him to fire at.

Most of the burrs failed to reach their intended mark, since Groot didn't have a very good aim, but every now and again he'd manage to hit one of the plates, shattering them to pieces. Every time Groot actually hit something, the duo let out cries of joy.

Marisol rolled her eyes. She was all for fun and games, but she could never really wrap her head around the idea of mindlessly messing around.

She preferred games that provided something of a challenge, a place where she could be allowed to hone in on her strategic skills.

Something to sharpen the mind, enhance her wits. Games like Galaga and Pac-Man and Chess.

Moronic and brutish behavior such as this only hindered ones capabilities and diminished any and all brain cells. (Though she wasn't sure her cousin had all that many brain cells in the first place.)

The ladies ducked as one of the burrs soared from the room, narrowly missing the pair of them.

Gamora growled in annoyance, as the burr lodged itself into the wall behind them.

"Oh, hey, guys," Quill said, giving them a small wave and flashing Gamora one of those cocky 'I want you' eyes. "Sorry, we were just -"

"Are you trying to turn Groot into a filthy degenerate like yourself?" Marisol snapped, glaring daggers at her cousin.

From the way his face contorted at the sound of the word, Starlord had absolutely no idea what it meant. Marisol let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache coming on.

She could already tell working with him was going to try her patience. "Games should be stimulating, not just oafish smashing!"

"It's called target practice," Quill defended.

"Why do you need to practice?" Gamora asked, sending her own glare his way. "Any imbecile can point and shoot a blaster."

Quill shrugged. "It's just fun."

"I am Groot," Groot agreed.

"Yeah, what he said!" Quill nodded, like he even understood a word he'd said. "You ladies need to lighten up."

Marisol narrowed her eyes at him, having actually understood what her friend had said. "That is not what he said."

"Whatever. It's still true," Quill said. He prepared to throw another plate into the air. Marisol stepped forward, snatching the plate from his hands. "Hey!"

"You are not going to dull his intelligence with your feeble-minded, barbaric games!" Marisol hissed.

"I am Groot," Groot protested.

Marisol ignored him, her attention firmly set on her cousin as she lay into him. "I worked hard to educate him since he was just a sapling growing from a pot! And I'm not going to have you undo all of that by acting like a buffoon. We use games to enhance and stimulate the mind, not murder our brain cells."

Quill nodded slowly, though it was obvious that he wasn't taking her seriously even before he opened his mouth again. "In other words, you're a total freakin' kill joy."

Marisol rolled her eyes at him again, and she heard Gamora sighing behind her, apparently just as exasperated with his behavior as she was.

"Besides, it's totally strategic and stimulating," he insisted, before Marisol could call him an idiot again.

Gamora made a face at him. She eyed him skeptically, evidently thinking his response was going to be just as stupid as any of his other actions. "How do you figure?"

"Well, say you have this annoying older cousin," Quill started.

Marisol scowled, already knowing she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"And she keeps nagging at you and your new friend," Quill went on, "and ruining your fun, and calling you stupid."

He withdrew his blaster from his belt, aiming it at Marisol's feet. "You just 'pew pew' and she'll go away."

Marisol narrowed her eyes further, emitting a menacing growl from her throat. "Try it, and I will disembowel you, Chico Estrella."

Then, like a child pushing his luck, Peter fired his blaster upon her feet; Marisol jumped back to avoid getting hit.

He didn't stop shooting until she was forced to back out of the room and down the hall; every time he pulled the trigger, he made little noises, "Pew! Pew! Pew!"

Marisol growled, rounding the corner so that the lasers couldn't reach her. Gamora was leaning against the wall next to her, having moved when Quill had started moronically firing his blaster to avoid being hit herself.

She was staring in front of her in much the same way she had when they'd been leaving the prison - that blank, expressionless look of contempt.

Marisol glared back at the room around the corner, grumbling curses under her breath.

"Yay, it worked!" she heard Peter cheer. The gleeful call was followed by more shattering of plates and stupid yelling.

"Mi primo es un idiota," she said darkly.

Gamora sighed, pushing herself off the wall with the shake of her head. "It doesn't matter what species they are, all men are idiots."

Marisol wasn't sure if she'd actually understood the Spanish or if she was just making her own observations, though.

"And we are the only two females on a ship full of them,"Gamora added before she could ask which it was.

Marisol turned, raising an eyebrow at her curiously. "Are you saying we should conspire against them and take over the ship?"

"I'm saying that, even though your dislike for me is obvious - and frankly you're a bit rude for my liking too - it would be nice to know I have someone who is...slightly less moronic than the others on my side," Gamora said.

Marisol scoffed in protest. "Slightly?"

Gamora gave her a pointed look. "You do your fair share of stupid things."

Marisol rolled her eyes, but she didn't argue against her point, knowing it was true. "Alright, fine. But I don't do any of that girly crap, like braiding each other's hair and dressing up in skimpy dresses - unless I want to get laid."

Gamora made another face. "I don't do any of that either, so you don't have to worry."

"Good," Marisol said. Gamora nodded in agreement.


	7. The Game

**Note: Unedited**

* * *

Long after everyone else had gone to sleep, Marisol was still up and at 'em. She'd tried convincing the others to stay up too, but they'd been adamant about getting some rest.

So, she spent her time in the galley, rifling through her cousin's cabinets and fridge. She had to constantly be doing something, to keep her mind going so all those unwanted memories were kept at bay.

In addition, she was worried that if she allowed herself to drift off for even a second, she would have another one of those god awful dreams. She really did not want to deal with those.

Her cousin had a surprising amount of Terran food, considering how difficult it was to find the stuff.

Not that she could complain much. Terran food was noticably better than any space food she'd eaten over the years.

Marisol found a loaf of bread in one of the cabinets, along with a toaster; she grinned to herself when she spotted the coffee pot at the end of the counter.

She found butter inside the fridge, setting it out with the bread and toaster. Then, she started her hunt for the coffee rounds, sugar, and cream.

Once she had everything laid out, she started the pot of coffee first then slipped two slices of bread in the toaster.

While she waited for her toast, Marisol slid around the dining table. She took a quick glance around, taking a moment to soak in the details of the room before closing her eyes.

It was a memory game she used to play with her pappa. The objective was to memorize their surroundings and call out as many details about the room as they could remember before the toast popped from the toaster.

"There's dishes in the sink," she said to herself quietly. "Six - three blue plates, two bowls, and the spoon stuck to the plate furthest from the wall."

She scrunched her nose up in thought for a moment. "The magazine on the end of the dining table is torn on the edge. It's Xandarian. Can't read the title, it's stained on the front. Quill probably uses it as a make shift coaster. And -"

The toast popped out of the toaster, cutting her off. Marisol opened her eyes with a small huff. "Damn. Must be out of practice..."

She shrugged, moving to spread the butter over her toast after grabbing a knife from the cabinet.

Marisol poured herself a mug of coffee, adding two sugars and a cream; and as she munched on her toast she started walking around the ship to see what sort of shenanigans her cousin might've been up to, plate in one hand, mug in the other.

For the most part she didn't find anything all that interesting. Just a few pictures hanging on the wall.

Most of them were of Peter being a moron, making stupid faces at the camera. A few were of him and Yondu - one even depicted a younger Peter learning to use a blaster, Yondu guiding his hands behind him.

Marisol grunted at the sight. "So much for taking him to his pappa."

She wasn't sure what it was, but something about the image made her heart burn. As if someone were squeezing it, crumbling it to dust.

It was difficult to put a name to the sensation. (Though feelings had never been her forte.) Annoyance, she figured.

Yondu clearly hadn't done what he'd been hired to do. He'd kept Peter instead of taking him to his father like he had been hired to do.

Marisol couldn't help thinking the abduction was a waste. If he wasn't going to do what he'd been told then he could have just left them alone. He could of brought them home.

Instead, he kidnapped them. He tore them away from their families - and for what? Another addition to his little gang?

Her chest burned a little hotter, and Marisol emitted a growl from her throat. She smacked the picture of Yondu and her cousin off the wall with her coffee mug, the glass shattering as the frame hit the floor.

Sighing, she turned away, stepping over the spot where her drink had spilt. Once she was away from the pictures, Marisol took a few deep, calming breaths until the fire in her lungs died down.

She slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the dusty flooring as she finished her toast and downed the rest of her coffee.

The fire was replaced by smog, her mind slowly drifting to the empty halls around her. The silence was eerie.

Marisol pulled her legs up to her chest, her breathing becoming labored and shallow in spite of herself.

She closed her eyes, trying to think of a riddle she hadn't already answered a million times.

"You see a boat filled with people," she mumbled to herself, letting out a shaky breath. "It hasn't sunk, but when you look again you don't see a single person on the boat. Why?"

* * *

Marisol swallowed the lump forming in her throat, trying to focus all her energy on the riddle. But part of her still felt a foreboding darkness looming over her anyways.

She kept flashing back to her time with the scientist on Halfworld, the place she and Rocket had been experimented on.

There were times that she and Rocket weren't together. During those instances Marisol would be brought into a room - nothing inside, not even so much as a bed to sleep on.

Everything in the room was pure white - the walls, the floors. Even her clothes were void of any color.

The room didn't have any windows, and once the door had been closed it had been impossible to see it.

She'd always felt as if she were floating in the middle of nowhere, like empty space theory of nothing.

Her senses always got completely turned around too. She couldn't see, hear, taste, smell, or touch anything at all.

The lights above her were always positioned in such a way that they didn't make shadows.

Marisol had always easily lost track of time when she was in there because of this. She'd think whole months had gone by when it had only been an hour.

She could never tell what time it was. How many days had gone by.

When the scientist had come in to conduct his usual experiments, she'd get confused not even thirty minutes after he left, unable to recall if he'd come in five minutes before or a week previous.

All the surfaces were smooth, not a single edge jutting out from the walls. No bumps or holes in the floor.

There had never been any sound in the room either. Marisol often forgot what noise sounded like, and she'd always been baffled when she returned to her cage and heard Rocket speak again.

To eat she was only given small, tasteless, white grains. She ignored them more often than not.

She remembered her head feeling like it was going to explode. Sometimes, she'd be told Rocket was dead or had left Halfworld without her.

Marisol had tried not to believe it, especially since it was never true. But her mind became so warped in that room that she couldn't help but to think it was the truth at the time.

It was called White Torture, but Marisol had never figured out what the purpose of the torture was or how it fit together with the experiments. (She tried not to think about it too much.)

Marisol shook her head, forcing the memories to the back of her head, trying to focus on the riddle once again. "Not a single person," she mumbled. "Why?"

She ran her hands along the rough ridges of the floor, reassuring herself that she could still feel something. "Why?" But she wasn't really asking the riddle any more.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep, because Marisol suddenly found herself amidst another terrifying dream.

She saw Groot's death again. The shield of burs he used to save everyone - except for himself. His last words. "We are Groot."

Those six multicolored gems - the Infinity Stones, Gamora had called them - made another appearance. That wretched snap rang through Marisol's ears at deafening volumes.

She saw a few of the strangers again. The man dressed in the cloak was seen traveling to a little shack in the middle of nowhere, struggling to learn his magic. (Marisol guessed this was another vision out of chronological order.)

The spider boy was sitting inside a yellow school bus before swinging out the window to assist the man in red and yellow. (They were fighting a big ugly guy with grey skin and sharp teeth. Marisol guessed he was one of Thanos' goons.)

The scene switched again, to that undisclosed location where Peter had been aiming the blaster at Gamora in the previous dream.

Only this time Drax was at the center of attention. The place seemed a bit more in tact, though not by much.

Drax was standing before a pod as it touched down, glaring angrily at it. A few moments later and it was made clear why.

The pod's doors opened and two blue skinned beings stepped out into the open - the one at the front was a Kree man, black lines trailing along his face.

Drax set his sights on the man, his face somehow becoming even more menacing and dangerous than before. He raised the knives he was clutching in each fist. "Ronan the Accuser!"

Ronan eyed Drax, a bored expression forming on his face, as if he were nothing more than an annoying gnat buzzing around. "You were the one that transmitted the message?"

"You killed my wife," Drax hissed. "You killed my daughter."

Ronan didn't even bother to respond. He simply turned away, heading back for the pod.

Drax let out a desperate shout of, "No!" Charging after Ronan, he swung one of his knives.

Ronan easily ducked, allowing the knife to swipe harmlessly over his head. He turned to the blue skinned woman, standing a few feet away, now. "Nebula, retrieve the Orb." She flew off in the pod at his order.

Meanwhile, Drax had taken another swing at Ronan; but the Accuser turned swiftly, shoving Drax back.

The Destroyer was not accepting defeat, though. He jumped to his feet as Ronan calmly approached, swinging his knives wildly.

There were no thoughts, no strategies put into his attacks. Just senseless, clumsy strikes made through pure emotion.

This was most likely what allowed Ronan to block Drax's attacks with such a lack of effort.

He leaned away from the knives' blades, raising his hand once more to shove Drax across the yard; the Destroyer crashed into an electrical box a few feet away, shattering it on impact.

Still, Drax came running back for more. With an angry yell, he charged Ronan, only for the Accuser to raise a hand and shove him back down once again before Drax even got near him.

Drax jumped up once more, swinging senselessly, Ronan blocking each of his attacks without so much as breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, Drax was getting beaten badly.

He had already gained multiple cuts and bruises. Yet, his rage and adrenaline carried him forward, determined to avenge his wife and daughter - or die trying it would seem.

Ronan grabbed Drax by the throat, as he sent out a surge of violent punches to his stomach. The Accuser lifted Drax into the air, flipping him onto the ground and pinning him there.

"I don't recall killing your family," Ronan told Drax, as if it hardly even mattered. He stood up, boring over the Destroyer as Drax slowly lost consciousness. "I doubt I'll remember killing you either."

In the next scene, Gamora and Thanos stood at the top of a mountain, the latter dragging the former to the edge by her arm. In one swift motion, Thanos tossed his daughter over the side.

Gamora let out a shrill shriek, which came to an abrupt stop as she smashed into the stone cold ground, green blood pouring from her wounds.

Marisol jumped awake just as Gamora's body made contact with the ground below.

She groaned, her head aching the slightest bit, eyes burning. The halls were still empty, and she couldn't hear anyone; so she wasn't sure how much time had passed.

But she was sure some time had, indeed, passed, because someone had placed a blanket over her shoulders and taken the plate and mug away - she assumed they'd been brought back to the kitchen.

Marisol sighed, getting to her feet; she was careful not to drop the blanket as she retreated down the hall back to the galley.

She wasn't all that surprised to find Groot standing at the sink, washing her dishes for her. Out of everyone on the Milano, he was the most likely to preform such a kind hearted act.

Mari waved at him, letting the smallest of smiles creep on to her lips for just a moment. "Hola, mi dulce arbolito."

Groot turned to face her, giving her a small wave of his own. "I am Groot," he confirmed her suspicions about the dishes and blanket.

She nodded slowly, letting out a small yawn. "I thought so."

"I am Groot?" he said, asking if she was going to sleep in one of the beds.

"Probably not," she admitted.

"I am Groot," he expressed his worry.

She shook her head. "I'm fine." But she couldn't stop herself from thinking about her dreams. About his death...

For all she knew, this could be the last time she'd ever speak to him, the last time they'd spent any real time alone together. "Do you want to play some chess?"

It was something they did whenever Rocket was too busy fixing up his weapons and explosives, when it was just the two of them. They hadn't played a game in a long while.

He nodded only to frown a moment later. "I am Groot."

Mari snorted. "I know Quill doesn't have a chessboard. We'll have to make our own."

Groot nodded again. So, that's what they did. With one of the napkins, Mari drew the checkered pattern of the board; they used the silverware in place of the pieces.

The pair of them played for a few hours, silently enjoying each other's company until the others woke up. Marisol made sure to take in every detail of her friend. She got the feeling this would be the last time she'd see him in such a calm state for a while.

* * *

**Bit of a shorter chapter. And a bit late...But I'm tired and I've had quite a long weekend with my grandmother visiting and subsequently causing issues on her last night here - but let's not get into that now.**

**So, I to make it up to y'all here's a bit of trivia that - hopefully - you'll find interesting.**

* * *

_1\. Marisol's original name was Mari Dubois, a shy french girl who moved to America to get away from the bullies at her school._

_2\. Marisol's second name was Marisol Heregreves, changed for an Umbrella Academy roleplay I had going with BiUnicornBrittany_

_3\. Her powers and personality were developed through this rp, though in the UA world she is much nicer_

_4\. She shares her last name with her face claim, Eiza González_

**_that's all for now, toodles! _**

_**~ Elsie**_


	8. The Pitstop

**Unedited**

* * *

Marisol did the math. It had been three earth days since they'd first escaped the Klyn. Marisol hadn't slept since then. So, she wasn't remotely surprised when she started hallucinating.

She was stirring her sugar and creams into her coffee when it happened, trying to keep up her energy levels via caffeine so she didn't sleep. (She'd been drinking at least ten cups a day.)

A girl was waiting for her around the corner, leaning against the wall of the ship even though she wasn't really there.

Her blood red hair was pinned up in a loose bun, strands falling over her electric, glowing eyes. As a kid those things had always freaked Mari out; she was sure they were some sort of lazer eyes that would fry her brain any second.

The woman's skin was pale - very nearly white as snow. Her finger nails were long, sharp like daggers.

The boots she wore were large enough to pound a person's skull in with one swift kick; hanging from her garments were varies weapons - swords mostly. (Like she'd even get to use them.)

In her hair she'd placed a wilting rose, though Marisol wasn't sure how that was possible. (She assumed her over active imagination had something to do with it.)

Marisol had seen her before, many times. The first time being when she had been locked inside the dreaded room. (Apparently, white torture made a person very susceptible to hallucinations.)

Since then the woman had appeared to her every now and again throughout her life time, usually when Marisol was in desperate need of some sleep.

She had appeared so often by now that Marisol had even given her name, just so she didn't have to keep saying, "that hallucination chick."

Her name was Kale, and she was a huge pain in the ass.

Marisol let out an exasperated sigh upon seeing her; Kale smirked and wiggled her fingers at her. She grew serious a moment later, narrowing her eyes at Marisol.

"So, we're back to sleep deprivation, huh?" Kale's voice was even more piercing than her eyes, more grating than those long nails of hers.

It was cold, like the ice glaciers back on Terra. She spoke slowly, drawling out her words like she thought she needed to emphasis every syllable in order for Marisol to understand, something that had always irritated her to no end.

(Which seemed weird because one would think they didn't have irksome characters like that in their heads.)

"Fuck off," Marisol told her, moving down the hall, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

Kale reappeared in front of her as she passed the next doorway. Naturally. God forbid she manage to escape what was in her head.

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack," Kale told her, leaning against the door frame. "Or maybe a stroke." She put a finger to her lips, frowning as if in deep thought. "Not sure which is more likely at this point, what with all that garbage you've been shoving in your system trying to stay awake..."

Marisol ignored her, pushing herself right through the woman. She hoped that would make her stay away, but she knew it probably wouldn't. She'd be back soon.

Her cousin was sitting in the pilot's chair when she reached the bridge. Rocket was sitting near by, making more explosives by the looks of things.

Gamora and Drax were keeping as far away from each other as they could, but every now and again they'd shoot each other a death glare.

Groot was sitting in the chair behind Starlord, looking completely enthralled by their surroundings.

Marisol slumped into the chair next to him. She wasn't sure what he found so fascinating about outer space, but she figured she shouldn't ruin it for him if he was going to...

Marisol shook the thought away, bringing her cup of coffee to her lips to take a sip.

"What is that? Your fifth cup this morning?" Kale asked, reappearing in the seat next to her. She had one leg hiked up over the arm rest, examining her talon like nails. "Surprised it's not booze. You're kind of an alcoholic."

"Shut up." Marisol emitted a low growl of annoyance - she really had not stayed gone long enough.

Everyone glanced up at her, each frowning with confusion. Peter turned his seat slightly, tilting his head to the side. "Uh, no one said anything."

Kale chuckled darkly from her seat, picking her teeth with her nails. "That's embarrassing..."

"Just...shut up," Marisol told her. She cleared her throat awkwardly as everyone gave her a funny look, Rocket most of all.

He was staring at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Out of everyone, he was probably the only one who even had a vague idea of what was going on with her.

After being friends for over twenty years, he had learned to pick up on these sort of things. Though, Marisol had never told him about Kale directly, knowing he'd just freak out about it. Very annoying.

Marisol glanced at the Milano's control panel, ignoring Rocket so he wouldn't bother her about it. Quickly reading the gas gage, she turned her attention to her cousin. "Your ship needs more fuel."

"...yeah," Peter nodded slowly. He shook his head, apparently realizing it'd be beneficial to his health if he just let Marisol's bizarre behavior go. "Uh, we'll stop soon. There's a planet coming up."

Marisol didn't respond, just stared blankly ahead, her eyes sagging down like two useless bags of sand.

She closed them for a second, but, when she once again heard that resounding snap and spotted those sinister gems, she jerked awake again.

In the next seat over, Kale shook her head slowly, clicking her tongue in disappointment. "So close."

Marisol groaned, her eyes on fire as she rubbed them once more. She took another long sip of her coffee. "I'm bored."

It sounded more childish than she had intended, but she didn't stop to think about it too much. She just desperately needed something to keep her adrenaline up, to keep her awake.

"And what do you suggest we do?" Gamora asked, sounding a bit bored herself. "Quill doesn't have much entertainment on his ship."

Rocket perked up, momentarily forgetting about Marisol's behavior as he slowly raised the explosives he'd made a few days ago, the dangerous ones. "We could -"

"We're not blowing up any moons!" Starlord cut him off, shaking his head sternly.

Gamora nodded her agreement, arms folded over herself as she narrowed her eyes at Rocket, daring him to try something.

It was a little uncanny, Marisol thought. The way the two of them already looked like a pair of parents, as if the rest of them were just their stubborn children they were struggling to reign in.

Rocket grumbled at this, and Marisol had to share the sentiment. As much as she loathed senseless brutality, it was always fun to watch things blow up - especially moons.

Marisol carefully balanced her coffee mug on the arm rest of her chair. She stared at her cousin seriously as he turned his chair back around to face forward. "Why don't we clean your disgusting ship?"

He immediately whipped his chair back around, suddenly switching between struggling father to lazy teen.

Marisol shrugged at his expression. "What? If you two don't want to do anything that's actually fun, we can at least be productive!"

Gamora stood up right, giving the other woman another curt nod. "I actually don't think that's a bad idea." She looked around slowly. "This place could use some freshening up..."

Peter gave them a look like, there is no way I'm doing that. He turned his chair forward again. "Yeah, good luck finding any cleaning supplies."

Marisol sighed, getting to her feet. She ran her eyes over the general area, spotting some rather large dust bunnies that should have been plenty of cause for alarm.

"Evidence would suggest there isn't any." She turned swiftly for the door, glad when Kale didn't follow. "But I am ingeniosa. I'll figure something out."

She turned back to her cousin as she prepared to enter the hallways once more, not really surprised to see Gamora right behind her. "And don't expect us to clean your sorry excuse for a ship very often. We are not your maids, chico estrella. This is a one time thing, because I am in desperate need of something to do."

* * *

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

Marisol grimaced as Rocket said that. A few feet away Kale let out a sharp gasp, looking between Rocket and her.

"He knows!" Marisol rolled her eyes at the hallucination's annoying babbles.

They'd stopped at this quaint little planet - a hunters and gathers type society. Purple skies. Blue grass. Grey skinned locals.

Starlord had decided everyone should stretch their legs while he filled the Milano up with fuel, so that's what they did.

Marisol had been pacing around the shipping docs for the last thirty minutes, hoping to keep herself awake and distracted from all the thoughts and memories rolling around in her head, when Rocket had approached her.

"I'm fine," she hissed down at him.

Kale snorted, leaning herself against one of the near by ships that had docked there as well. "Obviously not, if I'm here."

Marisol shot her a firm look, trying to make her face stone cold, even though she knew it was a waste of time. Kale was essentially just a figment of her imagination, hellbent on telling her everything she already knew.

Rocket followed her gaze, but of course he saw nothing. He looked back at her, actually looking quite soft.

It was a bit troubling. Marisol had grown accustomed to him keeping his walls up firmly in place.

She was use to seeing him glare at people and threaten to disembowel them if they screwed with him. In the past his worried tones only stretched so far as, "You're an idiot."

And that was it. He rarely ever showed any other sort of emotions. She'd seen his walls come down maybe three times in her life, the slight worry for her back at the Kyln prison yard room included.

Marisol scrunched up her nose. She didn't like that look Rocket was giving her. It was difficult to place, but something about it was just...disquieting. Made her feel like something wasn't quite right with her.

"You're seeing people that don't exist," Kale sighed. "Of course something is wrong with you."

She was sitting in a beach chair, tanning. Marisol wasn't sure how she'd gotten it, but then again she was a figment of her imagination, so it didn't matter.

"I'm fine," Mari said again, but her voice was a little quieter than she'd intended. It didn't sound as sure as she wanted it to.

"Okay...But have you been sleeping?"

Rocket's voice was low, the words spoken slowly, like she was some kind of scared child he didn't want running off on him.

Why did he sound like that? He'd never spoken like that before. It was all wrong! He wasn't suppose to sound like that!

Kale sat up from her tanning spot (how did hallucinations tan anyways?), propping herself up with her elbow. "He knows."

Mari kept her gaze locked on Rocket, doing her best to ignore the woman who didn't exist. That didn't stop her from being a pest though.

Kale's chair disappeared as she stood up, her red hair bobbing up and down slightly with the movement.

Her face was completely passive as she spoke, her voice stoic, that icy edge ever present. "He knows I'm here. That you've thrown yourself into another hallucinogenic spaz attack because you don't want to have bad dreams. Like a baby."

She stepped closer, coming to a stop right in front of Rocket. Kale looked Mari right in the eyes, those glowing blue eyes tearing a hole right through her. "You're destroying yourself, Marisol Gonzáelez! I'm your body's way of telling you that."

She folded her arms. "So, stop being an ass and listen for once. You need sleep." Kale nodded to where Rocket was still staring back at Mari with that blasted look. "At least try so your friends can stop worrying about it."

Another intense glare. "You need to go to sleep."

"¡Dios mío!" Mari snapped, dragging out the í sound of the word. "I can't sleep! ¡Joder!"

That expression only worsened on Rocket's face. Mari winced. She didn't want to see it anymore. "Why not?"

Mari glanced at Kale, and she gave a small shrug. But when she spoke her voice was as condescending as ever. "Sure. Go ahead. Tell him why you haven't been sleeping. Tell him about the dreams you've been having. That you've been hallucinating. That you're going crazy."

"¡Ayyy! Just leave me alone, will you?!" But Mari wasn't sure if she was referring to Rocket or Kale.

Whatever the case, they both went away, if not just momentarily. Kale disappeared like a ghost, and Rocket stared at her with that stupid expression for another moment before scurrying off to help Quill with the Milano.

Marisol let out a heavy sigh, watching him go. She really hadn't meant to be rude - at least not that time. But her dreams...

She didn't want to acknowledge them. There was only one other thing that had managed to unnerve her as much as those dreams had - that of course being her time on Halfworld.

It was a long shot, but perhaps if she ignored it, if she just didn't do anything to set the dreams' future into motion - then maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't happen. Groot wouldn't die.

Maybe the others would live too. But most importantly Groot would not die. At least...she hoped so.

She didn't contemplate on that thought for too long, though. Seconds after Rocket left, that foreboding sense seemed to remember her, and Marisol realized she'd just done something stupid.

She'd told Rocket to leave her alone. Sure, she had been alone before he showed up, but she had been distracting herself before, trying, again, to figure out what Peter had done with his walkman.

Besides, Kale had been around, and - even though she wasn't real - she managed to make Marisol feel less alone.

Now that both Kale and Rocket were gone and Marisol couldn't think of anything distracting enough, there was nothing roadblocking that lonesome suffocation.

Marisol's chest grew tight as she glanced around at all the ships around her. Her palms were sweating; her throat closed off.

It didn't make sense to her, considering she could still see the others by the Milano not two feet away. And in the opposite direction, there were at least two strangers working on the engines of their own vessels.

Technically, she wasn't really alone. But her body didn't seem to get the memo. Her breathing was getting particularly labored, her chest feeling as though someone had placed an anchor on it.

Mari's thoughts grew sluggish again. So, it took her a moment longer to remember she hadn't actually answered the riddle from a few nights ago.

"They..." She had to stop briefly for a labored gasp of air. "They were all married."

Slowly, the paralyzing numbness seeped out. Marisol found it a little easier to breath. She was trying to think of a riddle, when she heard someone behind her ask, "Who was married?"

Marisol jumped, whipping around. She relaxed when she realized it was only Gamora. (Normally, she was more observant and people usually couldn't sneak up on her, but she figured with a panic attack in progress her sloppiness could be excused.)

"Sorry," Gamora said, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I was an assassin. Sneaking up on people is kind of our thing."

Marisol snorted. She shook her head, turning her attention back to the Milano, watching as Peter and Rocket argued over who put the fuel in the ship.

She tried not to appear too relieved by the new presence the other woman provided. After all, she did have a certain demeanor to uphold.

"Don't get use to it," Marisol told her. "I don't make a habit of letting people sneak up on me twice."

"Of course," Gamora nodded slowly. She scowled distastefully as Rocket and Quill started beating each other up with the gas hose. "So, who was married?"

Marisol blanched, glancing back at her. She'd thought her question had been rhetorical when she'd first asked it, but her face revealed no signs of sarcasm. "It's a riddle."

She tilted her head to the side, looking more like a small, curious child than a tough, dangerous assassin. "A riddle?"

The wind caught her hair for a moment, the dark and violet strands mixing together beautifully in the sunlight of the planet.

Gamora was really pretty, Marisol had to admit. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see that much about her. But she wasn't really her type.

They were too similar. Both smart, good with weapons. Skilled in combat. Both had pretty rotten pasts. (At least Marisol doubted living with someone like Thanos the Mad Titan for a father was easy.)

Being with her, even for just a quick shag, would just be like being with herself. If Marisol wanted to screw herself, she could have done that multiple times already in the galley once everyone else had gone to sleep.

"Yeah," Marisol said. "The whole thing's like this: You see a boat filled with people. It hasn't sunk, but when you look back you don't see a single person. Why?"

Gamora gave another slow nod as she started understanding. "And the answer is that everyone on the ship is married?"

"Yeah," Marisol said. "It's designed to make you think outside the box. Logically, you might immediately think the answer is something like 'they jumped overboard' or 'they all went below deck.' But you have to focus on the word choice: single. Double meaning and junk."

"I see," Gamora said. "Do you do these riddles often?"

Marisol gave a short shrug in response. She wasn't really sure why it mattered, but she answered her question anyways. "I had a whole book of them back hom - on Terra."

Gamora scrunched her face up, and Marisol briefly recalled the way kids use to make fun of her little riddle book and call her a freak for it.

But Gamora didn't comment on it. Instead, she said, "Neither you or Quill talk much about Terra."

Marisol balled her fists into the sleeves of her jacket, watching as Groot and Drax came out of the convenience store near by. (They'd gone in awhile ago to collect some garbage food for Quill.)

"What's there to talk about?" She couldn't bring herself to meet Gamora's eyes. "Just another planet."

Gamora shook her head, not having any of it. "You almost called it home."

Marisol stiffened. She clenched her fists tighter at her sides, keeping her eyes across the way as the boys went inside the Milano to organize the junk food - which basically consisted of merely tossing the food inside the galley without actually putting anything away.

"It doesn't matter," Marisol grit out. Gamora looked like she was about to say something else, but she cut her off before she got the chance. "They'll completely trash everything we cleaned earlier. We better go catch up."

She hurried off towards the Milano, not stopping to see if Gamora was following.

* * *

**I'm not sure about that stopping point. I wanted to end somewhere else, but I think I'll use that as a starting point for next chapter.**

**Also, this isn't my favorite way to portray hallucinations, but I got the idea for Kale the other day and I just couldn't let it go.**

**So, I keep trying to update this on Monday, but so far I've been late twice, posting it on Tuesday instead. So, I think you can expect an update for this story on either Monday or Tuesday. Thanks for reading!**

_**that's all for now, toodles! **_

_**~ Elsie **_


	9. The Race

**Unedited**

Marisol flopped down in one of the chairs on the bridge, staring out the front window, bored out of her mind.

She'd shoved all the unwanted thoughts and memories to the back of her head, at least for the time being, long enough to keep Kale at bay anyway.

Starlord and the others were slowly trickling in behind her, preparing for take off when another ship made its way over, hovering just beside them.

It was smaller, newer looking. The wings were a lot shorter, and the mast was a lot more narrow. Judging from the pipes on the sides, Marisol assumed the thing had been built for speed.

The white platings were reinforced with dwarf star alloy to see to it that the little vessel could take a hit; though Marisol imagined the puny thing could venture too far out of this world's atmosphere.

It was surely be crushed by the air pressure should its altitude become too high.

The ship's lights began flickering the slightest bit, wings curving inwards, engine revving up.

Gamora frowned, scowling at the smaller ship with distaste. "What are they doing?"

Rocket chuckled lowly, climbing up to the pilot's chair. "They wanna race." He gripped the controls eagerly, glancing at Quill. "Can we race 'em?"

Quill looked apprehensive about the idea, especially since Rocket appeared to already be overly ecstatic about it. "The Milano is a thieving ship. It's not really built for racing."

Though based on his behavior, Marisol doubted he even cared. It was more likely that he was just trying to impress Gamora enough so that she'd sleep with him.

"I say we do it," Marisol said, ignoring her cousin's protests. They hadn't done anything remotely exhilarating since escaping the Klyn, and she was in desperate need of some adrenalin.

Gamora gave her one of those looks of disapproval she liked handing out so often. "What happened to disliking senseless behavior?"

Marisol slipped into the copilot's seat next to Rocket, giving her a small shrug. A smirk was beginning to form over her lips. "Racing isn't senseless. It's strategizing for when we need to outrun the authorities."

"Uh, we're gonna need to out run the authorities in a few minutes, because you two are gonna draw attention to us!" Peter insisted.

"Eh." Marisol had to admit: he made a good point for once. It was just that she didn't particularly care at the time.

"The imbecile and murderous are correct," Drax put in. "We should be focusing on finding and killing Ronan, not partaking in ludicrous games!"

Marisol waved the thought away, flicking the Milano's lights back at the smaller ship. "Relax, we can do both, amigo."

"Yeah, you guys need to learn to live a little!" Rocket smirked, revving up the Milano's engines.

"I am Groot," Groot said, covering his eyes.

Rocket scoffed. "I am not going to get us killed! Shut up."

Outside, the smaller ship flicked its wings twice, indicating that they'd go for the next two blocks, until they reached the next rest stop.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Peter asked nervously as he and the others hurried to sit down and strap in.

"Rocket was cybernetically engineered to fly ships and has extensive knowledge on weaponry," Marisol reminded her cousin.

"Yeah," Rocket nodded, flickering a few switches. "So, in other words, I can fly your ship better than you!"

Rocket cackled, slapping Marisol a high five, as they sped off into the on coming traffic of the planet.

The accelerated speed caused everyone to abruptly slam into the back of their seats. Marisol's strap started cutting into her collar bones, because as tough as she thought herself to be, her frame was fairly small; but she didn't mind too much.

Groot held on to his straps for dear life, though, letting out a terrified shriek of, "I am Groot!!"

He'd always hated these sort of things, and Marisol felt a little bad that they had neglected to take that into consideration. She'd have to make it up to him later.

Quill and Drax were smooshed into their chairs in a not so flattering manner; and Gamora was clutching on to her arm rests so tightly her knuckles turned white.

But Marisol and Rocket were cheering like manics, enjoying every second of it.

Rocket frantically began flipping switches and pressing buttons, twisting and turning the wheel to avoid the on coming traffic.

Marisol did her best to help when she got, but Rocket didn't really need it. So, she kept her gaze on their opponent through the window.

The smaller ship was definitely much faster than the Milano, and it was a lot more agile. The pilot could easily swerve around the passing ships and vehicles of this planet without much of an issue.

The Milano's bigger structure and slower engines made that task much harder for Rocket and Marisol, allowing the smaller ship to pull in front of them.

Marisol groaned in annoyance, watching as the pilot of the smaller ship flipped around, maneuvering underneath a cluster of pods and speeding up ahead by at least three feet.

The Milano was trapped between two very large pods and a cargo ship. Rocket hissed in annoyance, banging a paw on the wheel.

"Go up!" Marisol suggested. "We'll get around these losers and cut 'em off!"

Rocket nodded curtly, following her advice. The Milano shuttered and shook at the abrupt change of direction.

"This is madness!" Gamora yelled.

"This is fun!" Marisol argued.

Rocket pulled in front of the traffic, nearly hitting a floating traffic light on the way back down. Quill struggled to sit up, glaring at him. "Whoa! Hey! Easy man! This is my ship!"

"Sorry!" Rocket called back. Only a moment later, he chuckled to himself. "Oh, wait. No I'm not!"

Quill rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything else, he was forced to sit back as Rocket made a sharp left turn.

He situated the ship so that it flew on its side, the wings pointed in vertical positions, allowing them to sneak by a heavy looking cargo ship and another cluster of pods which blew their horns at them.

Once they'd passed, Rocket put the ship upright, eyes scanning the area around them urgently. "Where are they?"

"I don't see them," Marisol said, her eyes scanning over the traffic as well.

She twisted in her seat so she could see behind them, smirking when she spotted the little ship a good two feet in their wake. "Keep going! We're losing them!"

Rocket sped up, pushing the Milano's pedal all the way down to the floor board. With the force of the movement, everyone was thrown into their chairs again, Rocket letting out another happy little cackle.

"Must you drive like a crazed lunatic, Rodent?" Drax grumbled. Marisol figured he was enjoying it more than he let on, it was likely that he just didn't like Rocket.

"Yes!" Rocket insisted. He laughed manically, maneuvering the ship to dodge a cluster of ships as he swerved into the next lane after taking another turn too fast.

"Dude! You're gonna crash my ship!" Peter complained, getting thrown into his seat's armrest.

"You could use the upgrade anyways," Marisol told him.

Behind them, the smaller ship was swiftly moving around the traffic, steadily gaining on them thanks to their superior speed.

Rocket jerked the Milano to the side, blocking the other pilot's pathway, making sure they didn't pass them.

Marisol kept a firm eye on them via the monitors and craning her neck to see out the large window at the front. (Though she tried not to rely on the latter as she worried that might have resulted in her neck being snapped like a twig.)

The smaller ship attempted to pass them a total of three more times, but in each instance Rocket cut them off, moving the Milano up, down, left, and right to block their path.

Simultaneous, he had to keep at least one of his eyes trained on the traffic in front of him. More than once they'd nearly been plowed over by a larger ship, and the Milano was only just fast enough to move out of the way in time.

"Your foolishness is going to get us all killed!" Gamora snapped, reiterating Groot's statement after they'd narrowly missed yet another large cargo ship.

"Yeah, yeah," Rocket waved the comment away, clearly not listening. "Quit your whining!"

"Watch it!" Quill yelped. He pointed out the window. There was an approaching bus pod, easily three sizes bigger than the Milano.

"I see it! I see it!" Rocket hushed him. He swerved again, causing everyone to slam into their seats once more.

The smaller ship dipped under the pod, twirling in a full circle as the pilot took a nose dive for the ground below.

They changed their course at the last second, shooting straight up, zig zagging through the on coming traffic.

The pilot zipped between two pods, narrowly avoiding getting crushed by the pair of them; the pods blew their horns at the pilot as the smaller ship passed.

Marisol eyed the smaller ship curiously, clutching the strap of her seat as it rode up on her neck again when Rocket twisted the Milano around two more pods. "I haven't seen flying like this since..."

"Ziana?" Rocket finished. He scrunched up his nose, pushing the Milano even harder. "Oh, there is no frickin' way I am losing to her!"

"Easy! You're going to blow the engine!" Quill hissed.

Rocket, naturally, ignored him. The control panel grew hot under Marisol's fingers, even as she was just resting her hands on its surface.

From outside, the front of the ship began smoking; the Milano was making all sort of grinding noises, promoting more complaints from Starlord.

Still, Rocket kept pushing it. The smaller ship was gaining on them now, practically flying right next to them.

They would have passed several blocks ago, but Rocket was doing his best to keep the Milano moving faster, pushing the old bucket of bolts beyond its limits.

Marisol spotted the next rest stop up ahead. She bit her lip, gripping her arm rests as her heart began racing with anticipation.

For the moment, the two ships were neck and neck. There were no other vehicles blocking their path now, so they each had a clear straight shot.

The smaller ship sped up, smoke billowing from the pipes on its sides, its engine emitting an ear drum shattering roar.

The Milano let out some smoke too, only Marisol was fairly certain it wasn't supposed to. The smoke was starting to obscure her vision.

She wasn't sure how Rocket managed to see anything, but he didn't appear to be very bothered by it.

He narrowed his eyes, sights set on their designated finishing line. The pedals were pushed all the way down, sparks flying from the outside as well now, making Groot jump slightly.

The Milano creaked and groaned, significantly slowing down as it did so. Marisol could just make out the other ship passing them by through the smog their ship had let out.

The pilot of the other ship reached their destination a second before the Milano stalled out.

"Damn it, Rocket!" Quill hissed. He unstrapped himself, jumping up and shoving the smaller creater from the pilot's chair.

"Hey!" Rocket complained. He jumped on to the arm rest, fighting Quill for the wheel. "I know what I'm doing! Let me land this thing!"

"No, you're going to crash my ship!" Peter protested. "You've already ruined the engines, you manic!'

"I was trying to win the race!" Rocket insisted. "It's not my fault your ship is a piece of junk!"

"It's not junk its --"

Gamora let out an angry shout, banging her fist against the arm rest of her chair. "We are plummeting to our deaths! Someone do something about it already!"

Marisol took the controls from where she sat, jerking her wheel upwards and maneuvering the Milano so that it crashed into the plat form of the rest stop rather than the ground several feet below them.

The ship skid across the pavement, running over a few of the smaller pods and bulldozing through a few decorative statues set up around the perimeter.

She slammed the break pedal down to the floor board, the Milano fortunately skidding to a screeching halt just before they hit the fuel tanks and exploded.

Quill let out a heavy sigh of relief, glaring at Marisol and Rocket. Gamora was shaking her head with disapproval behind them, while Groot trembled in fear.

Drax bellowed out an ear piercing laugh, proving Marisol's theory that he had, in fact, found enjoyment from the race. "Let's do it again!"

"Let's not," Gamora growled.

Peter stood up, throwing his hands in the air as he stared at the smoking engine through the window. "Great, now we're going to have to make repairs too."

"Or we could just steal a better ship," Rocket insisted. "Nova Corps will be lookin' for this one anyways."

Peter sighed, looking pretty irritated about his ship getting trashed. But Rocket was right. The authorities would be on the look out for six inmates who'd escaped the Kyln in the Milano.

It'd be wise to ditch it. Besides, the ship was a total rust bucket anyways. Quill would be much better off with an upgrade.

Gamora threw her straps off, angrily rising to her feet. She pointed an accusing finger at Rocket and Marisol. "Why did you two have to insist on taking that challenge? We should be on our way to the buyer by now! But instead we will have to waste more time because you had to show off!"

Marisol shrugged, not really taking her scolding seriously. "We were bored."

Gamora glared at her. "I don't care! That is no excuse for such stupidity! I would have thought you'd be more cautious, as smart as you claim to be!"

Marisol rolled her eyes for about the millionth time since she'd met the other woman. She really did not have enough stamina to deal with her self righteous attitude. "Sorry we can't call be perfect like you, caballero blanco."

She looked like she was about to throw another insult Marisol's way, but Peter stepped between them, holding his hands up. "Whoa. Okay, look. Arguing isn't going to fix the Milano any faster. Let's just find a mechanic, fix the ship, and get out of here. Okay?"

The two women huffed but reluctantly nodded and backed away from each other.

"Or..." Rocket said slowly. "We could just steal a better ship."

Peter scoffed and turned on him. "You know what. I think you crashed my ship on purpose just so you had an excuse to steal a better one!"

Rocket pointed a claw up at him, a huge smirk forming over his face. "So, you admit your ship is stupid and old!"

Peter's mouth fell open, looking affronted by the comment. "It is not stupid and old!"

"I am Groot," Groot insulted the ship.

"Hey! Rude!" Quill said. He made a face of confusion. "I actually have no idea what you said, I'm just assuming it was rude."

"This is ridiculous! I should have never agreed to work with you people!" Gamora yelled.

"¡Oye!" Marisol protested. "It's not our fault you're a prude!"

Gamora looked as if she were about to start in on her again, but before she could a voice spoke up through the Milano's radio.

"That was some crash there, friends." Marisol froze at the sound of it. Feminine. Soft. Carefree.

She already suspected who it was, but hearing her voice again, having it confirmed...

Marisol wasn't sure she was ready to face the woman on the other end just yet. Not after the way they'd left things the last time they'd seen each other.

If she was right, and she usually was, the pilot of the other ship had been Marisol's ex -- Ziana.

~

**Awkward place to end, I think, but I couldn't think of another way to do it.**

**I really hope that the race was as cool as I wanted it to be, at the very least I hope it wasn't too boring.**

**_That's all for now, toodles!_**

**_~ Elsie _**


	10. The Ex

**Unedited**

**~ **

Ziana was a tall, slender woman with skin the color of mint and coal like eyes. With a bit of make up and a change of attire she might have passed for Terran, save for the two long lekku head tails sprouting from the back of her head.

She'd always reminded Marisol a bit of the twi'leks or togrutas from those old Terran movies she sometimes watched with her cousin before they'd been taken. Sun Fight? Space Wars? No. Star Wars. That was it.

Though, it was unclear what species she actually descended from, considering Ziana had never known her biological family. (And as far as Marisol knew she had no desire to find out.)

The last Marisol had seen her, Ziana had been a bit of a wreck, and she might have even thrown a glass bottle of booze at her. Though that was likely Marisol's own fault. She had, after all, broken the girl's heart.

However, now, as Marisol stepped off the Milano with the others, she looked perfectly normal -- better even.

There was a soft, genuine smile etched on to her lips, like a perfect oil painting. Her eyes twinkled with the same lightness that she'd always had, that same compassion and virtue she'd always radiated.

Those same aspects that had made Marisol fall so hard for her in the first place. Good. So she hadn't completely broken her.

She was dressed in the standard brown, leather racers uniform; her thick, black boots were zipped all the way up to her knees.

Around her waist she'd clipped a silver belt, and Marisol vaguely wondered if it was some sort of reward for a previous race she might have won.

There were small blotches of motor oil and grease, indicating she'd recently been working on a few engines. Possibly the engine to her own ship.

(Marisol imagined that was why she wanted to race them. She wanted to test out her latest tweaks.) But Marisol thought she looked better that way. She always looked her best when she was doing the things she loved.

Her ship had landed perfectly, gently placed between two much larger ships; Marisol imagined Ziana planned on challenging some more suckers later.

She was standing at the center of the rest stop's lot, right next to the smoking exterior of the Milano.

When her eyes landed on Marisol her smile faltered briefly. Just for a moment, but it returned just as quickly as it had gone.

It didn't seem any of the others noticed, though. Peter was far too preoccupied with looking over his damaged ship to pay attention, and Gamora was still shooting those judgmental looks at Rocket and Marisol.

But Marisol's eyes were glued on Ziana. It had been twelve Terran months since she'd last seen her, but she still looked relatively good.

Not just within her looks either. She looked good. Like she was actually a decent person, like she actually cared about other people. Everything Marisol wasn't.

The sight of her brought on an anchor of guilt, which placed itself roughly upon Marisol's chest.

She hadn't exactly been the best girlfriend to Ziana. Marisol had persistently cheated on her and lied to her on an almost daily basis.

Whenever she went anywhere, Marisol stole her personal items. Once she'd even framed her for a job she and Rocket hadn't quite pulled off too well.

Their relationship had been a toxic one, all because of the things Marisol had done to her, which is why she had to let her go. Ziana was so much better off without her.

But Marisol had broken things off under the assumption she'd never see her again. Now that she was right in front of her... Well, that was pretty hard to swallow.

For a moment, the pair locked eyes, neither saying anything. Marisol's mouth had gone as dry as sand paper.

Her palms were sweaty, even as she whipped them off on her pants; and she felt bile building up in her throat.

She expected her to yell or scream. To throw a punch. Something. Instead, Ziana just looked back at her, smiling that genuine smile of hers.

Somehow that made it worse. Made her miss the days when she could see that same smile everyday, long for the times when they touched, when they laid together...It was all so...intoxicating.

"Hey, Mari." Ziana gave her a small wave, no signs of malicious or vengeful intent. As if they had never even been together at all. It shouldn't have but that sort of stung.

She turned away from Marisol, her smile widening as her eyes rested upon Rocket. "Rocket. You're still not quite fast enough to beat me, I see."

Rocket folded his arms indignantly. "Pfft! I would have beaten you fair and square, if Quill's ship wasn't such a piece of junk!"

Ziana flashed him a coy smirk, placing a hand on her hip. "I think we both know I would have won either way. When it comes to racing, I'm the fastest woman in the galaxy."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you wish!"

She turned away from him, examining Quill's ship. The way her eyes lit up as she looked it over, how excited she appeared to be over it -- that expression had Marisol's heart lurching. "Besides, I wouldn't exactly call it junk. Maybe antique..."

Ziana looked the ship up and down, her eyes scanning over the frame work with a knowledgeable expression washing over her face.

"Falcate couplings. Yttrium engines. Looks like it hails from one of the Ravagers' crews."

She glanced directly at Peter, who looked a little taken aback by her knowledge of the old ship.

(Though Marisol had no idea how she knew he was the owner of the ship. Perhaps, it was the red leather Ravagers coat he was wearing that gave it away.) "Right?"

Peter blinked, nodding a moment later when he apparently realized he hadn't responded to her. "Uh, yeah. How did you --"

"Ships are kind of my thing," Ziana told him. "I grew up around them. So, they're basically my entire life."

"Wow, really?" Peter and Ziana went back and forth for a few minutes, the former testing the latter's knowledge with a series of questions.

Marisol groaned inwardly, putting her head in her hands. She thought, Great, my cousin is flirting with my ex...

Their little chat was only put to an end when Rocket interrupted them, waving his arms around indifferently. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. She's super impressive. Can we move on now?"

"We're not going anywhere after that stunt you pulled, rodent." Gamora didn't look nearly as impressed with Ziana as Starlord did; instead, she folded her arms over herself, narrowing her eyes at her as she explained.

"We were on our way to meet someone, before your race with Rocket destroyed it."

Her voice was laced with venom, but Ziana didn't seem to notice. She had never really been able to pick up on that sort of thing, not the way Marisol could anyways.

Ziana scanned the ship one more time, holding up a thoughtful finger to tap her chin. "You know, I know a pretty good mechanic."

"Who is it?" Drax asked. Marisol got the feeling he hadn't really been listening to their conversation. Otherwise, he surely would have been able to pick up on all the hints she'd been dropping.

Ziana grinned, pointing at herself with her thumbs. "It's me. I'm the mechanic."

Peter looked between Marisol, Rocket, and Ziana, as if he'd suddenly caught on to something. "Wait, you three know each other?"

Marisol started playing with the leather glove around her hand, refusing to meet anyone else's gaze.

Ziana stood near by, awkwardly clearing her throat and looking around sheepishly.

Unfortunately, Rocket didn't pick up on the fact that they wanted to keep their private affairs with one another just that -- private. He pointed between the two women. "Oh, uh, they use to date."

Marisol's head shot up, sending daggers Rocket's way. She hissed out a short, sharp, "¡Càllate!"

Ziana coughed into her fist, shifting her weight from foot to foot as everyone looked between them.

Kale appeared next to her, leaning her back against the Milano's frame, smoking floating right through her form. "Yeah, this is supes awkward..."

Marisol ignored her, partly because she didn't see the point in responding and partly because a moment later the others (namely Quill and Groot) were pestering her with questions.

Groot wanted to know how they met and how long they'd been together with a little, "I am Groot?"

Quill asked stupid questions, like "Who wore the pants?"

Meanwhile, Drax just made moronic comments at Marisol's expense, like, "I don't see it. You two seem like complete opposites." and, "You do not seem like the type to get involved in a relationship."

All the while, Kale kept shooting glances at Ziana and cooing to Marisol. "Awe, isn't she so cute when she blushes? I really missed her!"

Marisol sent a glare her way. It was stupid and irrational to be jealous of her imagination -- Kale was, after all, just a manifestation of her own hidden feelings -- but she couldn't help it.

The only thing that stopped Marisol from murdering them all was Gamora, and that was only because she put an end to their insufferable prying.

Gamora scowled, throwing a scolding hand out at the boys, her voice rigged with annoyance. "Enough. We need to fix the ship and get off this planet. Nova Corps will be looking for us after our escape. We'll be caught if we stay in one place for too long. We need to hurry."

Marisol nodded in agreement. She wasn't sure if she was making good on their agreement to have each others backs when the boys started acting like imbeciles or even she had just grown that irritated. Either way, she was grateful for the redirection.

Ziana tilted her head to the side, looking confused; without her consent Marisol felt a tugging sensation in her gut, the same feeling she had always gotten when she looked upon Ziana. "Why is Nova Corps looking for you?"

"We sort of...broke out of prison," Peter shrugged. From the way he'd said it, it seemed as though he aimed to imply that he frequently broke out of prison with the others.

Marisol scoffed at that, rolling her eyes. Kale shook her head, moving to stand in front of Peter, making a face at him. "Your cousin is an idiota." She had absolutely no arguments to that.

Ziana eyed the six of them for a moment, and Marisol almost expected her to turn them away. But she knew she was much too nice for that. "Wait, if I help you, would that make me your accomplice?"

"Yes, Marisol said bluntly.

In the same instance, Peter tried lying to her about it. "No!"

Ziana scrunched up her nose in a manner that made Marisol's stomach flip. The two cousins shot each other annoyed glances; Kale let out an obnoxious laugh at the scene.

"Just as long as we're all clear on the concept," Ziana said after a moment. Then, she broke out into a huge grin. "Let's go!"

**~ **

**So, a bit of a shorter chapter. Sorry about that. But I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!**

**And I have to ask: what were your first impressions on Ziana? Do you like her? Hate her? Because I was thinking about doing a Thor: Ragnorok story with her...**

**Also, if y'all wouldn't mind giving your feedback I sort of have this idea to introduce Captain Marvel to the Guardians in this story? Maybe make it a bit of an au?**

**If you've read any of my other oc insert fics you know that I love going off book concerning the canon, but I remember hearing from someone that the Marvel fandom doesn't really like that sort of thing so -- how would you guys feel about it? Please let me know!**

**_That's all for now, toodles!_****_~ Elsie _**


	11. The Episode

**LONG BUT IMPORTANT NOTE: So, I'm very very interested in psychology. As a result you'll find that a lot of my ocs will have some sort of mental illness they'll be dealing with. Marisol herself has at least four, if phobias count.**

**Two of these are schizophrenia and PTSD. Last night I couldn't sleep so I decided to watch educational videos on these. I found some interesting facts and so I was inspired to write this chapter.**

**HOWEVER, I am NOT a professional. Not all information will be 100% accurate. Feel free to correct me if you know better. (Also this is unedited.)**

**I also got to writing this chapter and realized some things can and will be quite triggering for some people. So, I will put a warning right here so you can be aware of what's here. Read at your own risk.**

**_WARNING: graphic scenes of gore and violence, mentions of flashbacks and post traumatic stress, mentions of torture, bullying, and taunting, suicidal thoughts, mentions of autophobia, racial slurs, intrusive thoughts_**

~

Getting to Ziana's garage went pretty smoothly. Marisol didn't even see or hear a peep from Kale the entire way there.

Ziana towed the Milano to the garage via the tractor beam on her smaller ship. (It was surprisingly powerful, considering the vessel was the size of a postage stamp.)

It wasn't until after they arrived that everything went to shit.

Ziana parked them outside the garage and told them they could walk around, make themselves at home while she worked on repairs.

The garage itself wasn't actually that big. There were a few ships parked around here and there, engines opened wide up for all to see.

A couple of them were even suspended into the air on hydraulics; tool boxes were scattered all around the room in no particular order.

There was a set of double doors at the back of the garage, which lead into a narrow office space before branching out into a small living area.

Marisol guessed Ziana must have stayed there whenever she wasn't off racing fools or fixing dummies' ships.

It was a decent set up. A couch in one corner, a TV in another. (Yes, they had space TV's, albeit much fancier gadgets than the ones Marisol had seen on Earth.)

Bookshelves were full of space vessel magazines and mechanic manuals. (Ziana and Peter had a fairly lengthy conversation about all of it later.)

Forking off to the left, there was a bedroom decorated from wall to ceiling in space ship posters. (Ziana had a bit of an unhealthy obsession.)

There was a bathroom in the hall, a kitchen, and a seemingly random room that wasn't used much for anything besides storage.

The first sign of trouble occured when Marisol was sitting with the others in Ziana's living area.

Groot and Peter had run off to do something stupid and boyish. (They had taken quite the liking to each other, it seemed.) Meanwhile, Gamora was avoiding everyone, clearly still ticked off over the most recent events.

Rocket was trying to con Drax into giving him some metal contraption he must have spotted him with whenever Marisol wasn't looking. (Though it was likely that Rocket would just take the item regardless of Drax's response.)

No one was paying Marisol any mind. She feel her usual sensation of suffocation. That inexplicable, impending doom that told her she wasn't safe until someone spoke to her, that undying paranoia that she could never really get rid of.

In addition, her vision blurred for a moment, a vision forming in her mind's eye.

It was a graphic image that made her stomach churn -- one moment everyone was sitting calmly, the next they laying dead, mangled on the floor.

Rocket's furry body had been stuffed so that he was a raccoon plushie; and Groot was nothing more than a pile of leaves. Gamora was laying in a pool of green blood; Peter was flipped over the couch, his intestines dangling out of his guts.

Drax's head was cracked open, blood seeping out and staining the carpet underneath his body, varies slashes along his arms.

Even Ziana was there, neck snapped and back twisted so that her spine was poking through her skin.

The vision lasted maybe a second, but that was enough to get her heart racing, palms sweaty.

At first she thought it was another nightmare of the future, but when she heard the voices she knew better.

They didn't always go hand in hand, but they often did. Marisol couldn't put a name to what they were, but occasionally, not very often, she heard the voices of people from her life back on Terra.

Not even people she cared for either. It was the voices of rude teachers or peers. People who'd tried to put her down or call her names of make fun of her for her heritage.

She only heard them once in a blue moon, and she hadn't really heard them in over three years. (Or maybe it was just that she had gotten use to hearing and ignoring them.)

The voices tended to send her messages, usually reminding her how stupid and useless she was. They told her that she needed to kill herself or that she was being followed or that she needed to hurt someone else.

The graphic images usually came with the voices, along with vivid hallucinations, albeit not quite as friendly as Kale.

These essentially amounted to demonic like characters that attempted to intimidate her. (Like the big blue blob that like to try to bulldoze her or that bizzaro Groot thing that enjoyed stabbing at her eyes.)

Sometimes they showed up at the same time as Kale, but most of the time they drowned her out.

As if Marisol's brain was trying to tell her that all of her shit was much stronger than any positivity she might have been holding on to.

(As annoying as Kale was, she was, in fact, the personification of Marisol's positivity.)

This time, there were no hallucinations, not even Kale was floating around. But the voices sounded off immediately after Marisol came to from the vision.

She stumbled back slightly, eyes widening. No one seemed to have noticed. Drax was too busy trying to fend Rocket off.

Gamora was too absorbed with ignoring everyone. And Peter and Groot had completely disappeared.

Marisol blinked, rubbing her temples, her head begining to pound steadily as whispering rose steadily in her ears.

It sounded as if someone were standing right next to her, mumbling in her ears. She didn't bother looking, though, because she knew no one would be there.

The voice was hard to make out at first, just a distinct murmuring of something less than pleasant. Gradually, it grew louder and louder.

"_Useless_."

"_Troublesome_."

"_Good for nothing border rat_!"

"_Spic_!"

They were easy enough to ignore. Marisol had been doing it pretty much since her first time in that white room.

She stood at the center of the room, focusing on breathing, trying to keep her mind occupied by solving a few riddles. (A challenge when the voices insisted on telling her how stupid riddles were.)

"_They want you dead_."

At some point Rocket left, retreating into the garage, possibly to go bug Ziana or steal whatever it was from Drax. Gamora and Drax followed, probably to make sure the latter didn't happen.

This left Marisol alone to deal with the bone crushing loss of air that always came with empty rooms, coupled with the voices, which were more persistent than usual.

(Perhaps, she was just losing it after all.)

She leaned against the wall, her breathing becoming shallow. The voices were getting even louder now.

"_Just go die. No one wants you here, spic_."

Marisol's head pounded with every syllable they spoke; it was getting impossible to ignore them. She wanted to scream at them to shut up, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. They weren't real.

Even so, they rendered her quite useless. She found herself sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, but she couldn't really feel it.

She couldn't feel anything. Her body had gone completely numb, not even so much as a tingle as one would feel when their foot was asleep. There was just...nothing.

Her vision was impaired as well. It was impossible to see even two feet in front of her; she couldn't even make her hands out in her lap as she clenched them into fists. The voices were suddenly screaming.

"_WHY DON'T YOU JUST DIE!_!"

And as if that weren't bad enough, Marisol still felt the lingering hopelessness she always got whenever she was alone. It was getting buried under the voices and other nonsense, but it was still there.

Then, just to put icing on top of the terribly traumatizing cake, Marisol's brain decided that now would be perfect timing for a random flash back.

It wasn't a typical flash back either. She wasn't suddenly whisked into a scene from the past, not inherently anyways. The flash back wasn't visual.

It was more physical or maybe emotional. She wasn't really sure. All she knew was that she was feeling the same paralysis and fear and hopelessness she'd felt on Halfworld.

Marisol could have sworn needles were prickling her arms. She could feel the gadgets and gizmos the scientist had poked her with and the bumps on her head from where she'd hit it more than once on the cage that was much too small.

It was difficult to breath, and at some point Marisol was sure someone was choking her. She found herself desperately longing for her Pappa and pleading quietly to go home.

All the while dread settled over her like a blanket of porcupine needles, and the voices raged on in her head.

"THEY WANT YOU DEAD!"

"GO DIE, SPIC!"

"USELESS BORDER HOPPER!"

"GO HOME, SPIC!"

She was shutting down before she even knew it. Marisol could feel everything and nothing all at once. She heard the voices; yet at the same time they were soundless.

Her head was in agonizing pain and completely empty all at once. She was flashing back to her time as a lab rat, her mind making her believe she was still there, while simultaneously having a clear head space.

She wasn't sure if she was actually taking in any air or not, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything.

Her mind wasn't processing anything. Marisol could no longer register that the voices were just in her head or that she wasn't actually in the science lab on Halfworld.

She couldn't differentiate reality and fantasy. She didn't know she was still in Ziana's place, safe and sound. All she could register was the sheering pain in her sides, on her arms, on her head.

All she could feel was the drowning sensation of loneliness. She couldn't see anything in front of her, and, if she had been able to form a coherent thought, she might have even thought she'd gone blind.

"YOU ARE SO STUPID! NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!"

"GO HOME, BORDER HOPPER!"

She wanted to scream. To move and tell the voices to shut it. She just wanted it all to stop. But she couldn't find the strength to do any of it.

Marisol's body had turned against her. It was like someone had flipped a switch and shut her whole system down.

She couldn't move a muscle even if she tried. All she could do was sit and stare blankly at her hands in front of her, watching the formless blobs that were her fists as they clenched in her lap.

Marisol wasn't sure how long she'd sat like that. It felt like an hour or two, though it was probably only a few minutes. It was hard to tell.

"THEY'RE GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"YOU DESERVE TO DIE!"

"USELESS SPIC!"

The first thing she actually saw were waves, which was rather confusing when mixed with all the other crap.

It was like one of those images of sound waves her old Terran science teachers showed the class sometimes. Wavey, curly, bouncing up and down. There was a distinct, repetitive snapping noise coming from somewhere, which did little to help.

If anything it just reminded her of that nightmare she'd been having an made everything ten times worse.

Then, she heard a voice rising above all the others. "Yoowhoo! Mari! Hello! Paging Mari!" The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

Something about it sounded off, different from the other voices, but she couldn't quite place it.

All she knew for sure was the sheer volume of the voice was enough to make her want to borrow into herself and never come out again.

The syllables were long and drawn out, and it sounded off right along with the snapping. Was someone snapping in her face? Or was it all just more noise in her head?

"Marrii!!" Snap, snap, snap. Visions from the dreams swarmed her mind now as well. Marisol couldn't tell if she was awake or sleeping.

"Don't do that, you idiot." This voice briefly stopped everything. She couldn't immediately place it, and when it stopped the other noise started up again.

"Why not?"

"Because it's stupid! Only stupid people do that. You're a stupid person."

But as the voice went on, everything else began to clear away, and Marisol found herself slowly being pulled back into reality.

She latched on to the voices, namely the second one, letting it drag her back into coherence and normalcy.

"I am not a stupid person!"

"Yes you are. You are always doing stupid things, like going back for that stupid music box when we were escaping a freakin' prison!"

"Wha -- pfft! This is coming from the guy who thought putting explosives in a box would protect the ship? Or the guy who freaking wrecked my ship!"

It took a few minutes for her vision to clear up, but the more she focused on that one specific voice the quieter the others got, the more clarity was brought into her mind.

"It's not my fault you only got trash from the Ravagers. Hey, when you get back to Yondu maybe you can ask him for better merch...and not just so I can steal it from you later."

The pain and loneliness soon faded all together; and her body wasn't numb anymore. Breathing was no longer a chore, and after a while even her headache subsided and she could move with ease.

Two blurry figures appeared before her before taking shape as Rocket and her cousin. She wasn't entirely sure where they'd come from or when they'd come in.

She hadn't heard anyone enter. She hadn't heard much of anything besides yelling.

Peter was sitting in front of her, rolling his eyes and grumbling childishly at what Rocket had just told him.

Rocket was perched on her knees, and for a moment Marisol caught an image of herself throwing him across the room violently by the tail.

The idea made her want to throw up, so instead she turned to her cousin and punched him in the chest.

"Ow! Hey!" Peter complained, falling backwards. "What the heck?"

Rocket snickered from where he was sitting on her legs. Others' pain had always been extremely amusing to him.

Marisol ignored the both of them, her head ringing a little with the sudden silence.

It took her a moment to recall where she was or what she was doing there, and she refused to speak, knowing that it would likely just come out a mangled mess.

She was sitting next to the couch, huddled in one corner; for a moment she couldn't remember how she'd gotten there.

Marisol let out a small breath, slowly so that neither Rocket or her cousin noticed. Slowly, her memories came back to her. The race, meeting Ziana, going to her garage. The orb they were trying to sell. Everything.

Her arms and legs felt like lead, eyes burning, lids drooping closed despite her protesting. She desperately wanted to stay awake, lest she have another nightmare.

But it had been almost four days since she'd slept, and after that episode she was absolutely exhausted.

Kale appeared next to Rocket, eyeing her oddly. She didn't say anything, but from the look in her eyes, the message was clear. Go to sleep.

As annoying as she could be, Marisol couldn't help feeling some kind of relief with her there. If she was going to be hallucinating, she would much rather be seeing her than anything else.

Peter rubbed his chest as he sat up again, staring out Marisol with that same annoying look Rocket had earlier. "Are you okay? You looked really out of it for a minute."

Marisol nodded curtly. When she spoke, her sentences came out slurred and garbled, her thoughts not quite forming properly as they transitioned from her head to her mouth. "Didn't hear...is...fixed? We...sell..."

Rocket and Peter flashed her identical looks of confusion, clearly not comprehending what she was trying to say. Marisol let out a frustrated sigh. She really needed a drink, but when she tried telling them that all that came out was, "dr...ink..?"

Fortunately, someone at least understood that bit. Ziana appeared in the doorway, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "Wanna see where I keep the good stuff?"


	12. Hiatus (?)

yeah...I know, I know. I'm sorry. It's very annoying when authors do this. You start reading and maybe somewhat liking this story but before you get even half way through it the author pulls this stunt. Very, very annoying.

But to be honest, I'm just not really feeling any fanfics right now. I've stretched myself thin, and I think I really need a break. So, I think I may go on hiatus for a few months. Maybe one or two; I should be back maybe November or December.

I apologize for any inconvience.


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